Into the Wild
by Spica Celeste
Summary: Contains Major Hurt!Sick!Angst!Dean and Minor Hurt!Angst!Caring!Protective!Sam. You know how civilians always think supernatural killings are animal attacks? Well, they're always wrong. Except, what if, this time, they're right? Sam and Dean are WAY out of their comfort zone on this one. Not slash. Set Season 1.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Oh my God. What am I doing? Contrary to everything I stand for as a writer, this fic is currently incomplete. And yet here I am, posting to fanfiction. This is either going to go really well, or I'm going to learn an incredibly tough lesson in disappointment. Whatever. What's the point of having an account if I never use it. Two stories? Really? **

**So, here we have the Prologue of 'Into the Wild'. If it generates some interest, I'm hoping that'll motivate me to get it finished. As it stands, I have about 12 and a half/13 chapters complete. We'll see how it goes. I'm looking forward to seeing how this experiment unfolds! ...I think. Anyway, enjoy!**

**WARNINGS: Might become slightly AU later, as I may bring in Bobby Singer and/or John Winchester earlier than we see them in the show. So any JW haters or those anal about canon, get out. Also, haven't edited NEARLY as much as I normally do so I'm paranoid errors are jumping out of this fic like fleas. Beware. And if you see any, PLEASE let me know. **

**SPOILERS: ****No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

******DISCLAIMER: HAHAHAHAHA. **

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**PROLOGUE**

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Sam ran with the gurney as it was rushed through the corridor and towards the operating theatre. He could hear murmurs carrying words like '_surgery_' and '_critical condition_' and '_unstable_' floating around him. More nurses and doctors swarmed him, trying to jostle him from his place at Dean's side but the younger Winchester refused to relinquish his grip on his older brother's cold hand.

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Focusing so hard he could hear the blood pounding in his ears and calling on all his reserves, including his psychic 'whatever' (as Dean so often referred to it), Sam tried diligently to transfer some of his own strength to his dying brother; it was a pipe dream, but he had to try. The monitor attached to the metal frame was blaring wildly, declaring nose-diving vitals.

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

An attractive female doctor straddled Dean's bloodied torso, rhythmically squeezing an Ambu bag, trying to force Dean's shredded lungs to breathe. Sam kept up a mantra inside his head, his lips muttering nonsensical words and phrases, noiselessly praying for the older hunter's survival. _C'mon, Dean. C'mon, man. Please. You can't do this to me, you can't, you can't, youcan'tyoucan'tyoucan'tyoucan't..._

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

"Sir, we are doing everything we can. Please step away from your brother. Sir? Sir? _Sir..._" Voices buzzed in Sam's ears but he couldn't respond, couldn't do anything except watch his brother die. _There's so much blood! _It was everywhere, coating Dean, coating Sam, smeared on the metal frame of the gurney and staining the sheets. It was on the trauma team, on their hands, in their hair. _Dean's blood..._

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

"You cannot go in there! Somebody call security!" And then there were hands, pulling Sam's entire 6'4" frame away. He struggled, yelling for his brother, yelling for him to live, to _survive..._He felt himself being pushed down into a chair, a paper bag being placed over his mouth and nose and being instructed to breathe into it. But he couldn't breathe, he couldn't, because Dean was dying, maybe already dead _RIGHT NOW and please, I have to help him, save him..._He could still hear the machines, ringing in his ears.

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Someone's calling for a sedative but all Sam can feel is the white noise surrounding him and, _please God, _he needs his brother. He's lost Jess and he can't lose Dean too. He won't, he just won't.

Suddenly, there's a prick in his arm and he's falling, sliding to the ground with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. He can't move or speak and he's tired, _so tired..._But he needs Dean but not now, he'll have to wait, _have to, _until he's slept for just a little while.

And as the younger hunter's eyes slip closed, the last thing he spies is Dean's amulet, curled up in his fist, the brown string and gold brass drenched in tacky, crimson blood...

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

XXXXXX

**48 HOURS EARLIER**

"Sam, for the last time, _Dad_ has sent us these coordinates for a reason!"

"Dean, I'm telling you, I've checked local news reports and there is nothing to indicate that anything supernatural is going on here!"

"Dad wouldn't be wrong about something like this, Sam," Dean protested. "So what if there are no supernatural signs? How many times have we hunted something that doesn't leave a trace? You wanna wait for more people to die, is that it?"

"No! No, of course not. But, Dean, there is usually _something. _No matter how tiny or insignificant it is to a civilian, _we _can usually find it. This time...nothing. I just don't think these attacks are our problem!" Sam was trying to calmly reason with his brother but he found his frustration mounting.

They had been arguing like this for days. It had started small; innocent brotherly quarrels over ridiculous things like who got to use the bathroom first and what they had for dinner. From there, the arguments had grown, morphing into huge rows about more personal things like Sam's nightmares and the way Dean hero-worshipped their father. Both were ashamed to admit that punches had been thrown not three nights ago over something so stupid and trivial that neither could remember what they'd been so mad about in the first place.

Two days of angry silence ensued following _that_ fight, but it had ended abruptly after a single father and his twin daughters had been killed on a camping trip. Guilt had flooded both the Winchesters; if they hadn't been so preoccupied with their own emotions, they could have figured out what they were dealing with and prevented the deaths of the family.

"We'll just have to keep digging then, man," the older hunter decided, his tone forceful. "Tell me what we know so far."

Sam turned away from his older brother and sat down heavily on his bed, surveying the scattered newspaper reports around him. He shut his eyes and took a calming breath, knowing that arguing was futile. Whether what they were hunting was supernatural or not, it was still killing people and needed to be dealt with.

"We know that it's _not _a black dog or werewolf. Lunar cycle is wrong and there are none of the usual signs for either of them. Saying that, the attacks are primitive, animalistic," the younger Winchester stated, careful to keep his tone neutral.

"Alright, so that rules out those. I don't know about you, man, but it sounds like a wendigo to me," Dean replied, rooting in his duffle bag for any leftover flares from their last wendigo hunt.

"Dude, c'mon. What are the odds of hunting two wendigoes in six months? Besides, it's not dragging its victims back to some secluded cave or whatever. It's just eating them then and there," Sam reasoned. His gut was telling him that this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The sleepy, idyllic town they were currently in bordered a massive forest and grizzlies weren't an uncommon sight.

"Well, then maybe it's a homeless wendigo. I don't know and I don't really care, but what we are gonna do is waste it before it can hurt anymore people like that family!" Dean yelled, throwing down his duffle bag and turning to face Sam. The younger Winchester's chest ached at the mention of the family and he looked down at the news report of the family's death, the picture of the pretty twin daughters smiling up at him accusingly.

"Is that alright with you or do I have to handle this one on my own?" the older hunter asked, his furious gaze searching Sam's face.

"No! Don't be a jerk, Dean! I'm just saying it doesn't feel like one of ours, that's all," Sam replied, annoyed at how quickly their arguments kept springing up. "I never said we shouldn't hunt it," he continued, voice softer.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to rein in his irritation. He blew out a breath and felt some of his frustration recede. Only marginally relaxed, he piped up.

"Okay. Well, I need more flares anyway if this is a wendigo. There was a camping store a couple of blocks back; I'm gonna go take a look. You need anything?" the older Winchester asked, his tone apologetic.

Sam looked up and read Dean's eyes. He got it. They were both tired and upset, what with Sam dealing with Jessica's death and Dad being missing. Those years at Stanford had come between them and it was times like now when Sam could really see how much they both had changed.

"No, I'm good. Thanks," Sam replied and Dean just nodded once before turning on his heel and leaving the suddenly too small motel room.

XXXXXX

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**A/N: So yeah, um. There it is. Next chapter will be...next week? I dunno. Playing it by ear. Should probably point out that halfway through that _'dramatic_' opening portion of the fic, the sudden shift into the present continuous tense was intentional. I'm not barely literate, it just served a purpose. As always, let me know if you spot a mistake of any kind; I'd be most appreciative. Hope you enjoyed!**

**Ad Astra.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Oh, you guys! Why'd you all have to be so nice in your reviews?! You all totally appealed to my poor impulse control, which demanded I put up another chapter today instead of the previously-mentioned next week. Dammit. Still, it was completely flattering and lovely to see so many people faved and followed and reviewed, especially for a measly little prologue (admittedly, all my chapters are about 1,500 words long...but you get the point!) so thank you all so much. Here, have the real chapter one as a reward! Enjoy!**

**WARNINGS: Forgot to mention the standard 'I'M BRITISH, DON'T PICK ON MY FAILING AT TRYING TO WRITE ALL AMERICAN-LIKE' in the prologue. My bad. Also, haven't edited nearly as thoroughly as usual and since I'm using you all as unoffical Betas (NOT EVEN ASHAMED.), if you spot a mistake let me know, por favor. **

**SPOILERS: ********No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**********DISCLAIMER: The fic's mine...but the boys aren't.**

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 1**

Dean surveyed the flares and absently grabbed a few from the shelf. He took them to the cashier, lost in thought. Everything was so tense right now with Sammy. He just needed a freakin' break once in awhile. But, Sam was insistent. Searching for Dad and whatever killed Mom and Jessica came first and that regime wasn't going to end anytime soon unless they were forced to quit.

Dean groaned lightly, a hand running through his short hair, indicating his stress.

"You okay, son?" the man behind the counter asked as he priced up the flares.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine, thanks," Dean replied, snapping out of his funk and pulling out his wallet.

"You looked miles away there for a second," and the old guy grinned, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah, well. You know how it is. Family and all that. Can't live with 'em..." Dean sighed.

"...Can't live without 'em," the man finished. He held out his hand for Dean to take. "Name's Brian Myers."

"Dean," the hunter replied, careful to leave his last name out. The old man seemed to get it and he grinned again.

"So, tell me, son, what's your family done to rub you up the wrong way?"

Dean hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should say anything. But, once again, Brian seemed to understand.

"Hey, you don't have to tell me. I'm just a nosy son of a bitch, that's all," he said, chuckling.

Dean smiled. "Nah, it's nothing. Just kid brothers, you know? Think they know everything."

"I hear you. I've got three of them and each one thinks they're the smartest thing to walk God's earth. Don't seem to understand that us older siblings put up with a lot of crap. We have to look after the runts and accept that we'll never be quite as precious to our folks as the littlest one. You know what I mean?" Brian stated, shaking his head and clearly reminiscing memories of his own.

"Yeah, I do," the hunter whispered, strangely feeling a little choked up at Brian's words. They were all true. Sam just didn't understand. He'd taken care of the kid since he was six months old. That kind of responsibility...his brother couldn't possibly understand the weight on Dean's shoulders. Not to mention their dad. Sam was so sure, so adamant that John was disappointed in him, that Dean was the favoured son.

He scoffed mentally. _Please, _he thought, that familiar pit of rejection only his father could inspire welling up inside of him. Dean was a good soldier, not a son. He seemed favoured because Dad never got short with him, because Dean always followed his orders.

Sam, for all his rebellious attitude, made Dad proud. They were alike in a way that Dean and John never could be. Dad took notice of Sam and, despite the arguments, was pleased to have a son that stood up for what he wanted. Dean was nothing but Sam's bodyguard, an extra pair of hands and eyes to look out for Sammy when John was away. His little brother didn't even realise how treasured he was.

_Be glad, Sammy, _Dean thought bitterly. _Better to have the man on your case all the time than get nothing from him at all._

"Tell you what, since I'm feeling all sentimental today, I'll let you have these half price," Brian offered. "Just don't say you're gonna be taking them camping."

"Actually, I was. Thought I might need them in case I run into trouble. Trouble happen a lot round here?" Dean probed, taking advantage of the local man's knowledge.

Brian nodded sadly. "Only recently. Other side of the forest, they're building a new road. Can't see the point myself but it's going in all the same. All the momma grizzlies are getting anxious, moving their babies away from the construction, scrounging for food. Sadly, food seems to include people these days. We've had nine attacks so far. Tragic, ain't it?"

"Sure is," Dean replied, the cogs in his mind ticking over. He didn't like to admit it – there was no way Dad would mistake grizzly bear attacks for something supernatural – but Sam's idea that it was just wild animals defending territory was looking more promising.

"My friend Oscar was attacked. Killed him and his two daughters. They were the sweetest things. Only just turned nine. Damn shame. My youngest brother nearly lost his fiancé too, out on some hen night camping trip or whatever. She lost her leg, poor girl. Better that than to be eaten alive, though," Brian said, his tone heavy with grief.

Dean could only nod his agreement, too caught up in his guilt over the deaths of Oscar and his daughters. _This is what happens when we get all turned around like this, Sammy. People die._

" I'm telling you, if these attacks don't ease up soon, me and a few of the boys are gonna grab our rifles and hunt the damn things down ourselves." Dean looked up at Brian's determined exclamation.

"You sure you wanna do that?" Dean asked, still not giving up on the idea that the deadly predator was a wendigo.

"Sure as hell. I won't let more people in this town die. You'd do well to keep out of our way, son. Camping ain't advisable this season," Brian stated, his voice dropping to an almost threatening level.

"Is that a threat?" Dean found himself squaring off at his newfound acquaintance.

"No, son. More like a piece of friendly advice. If you do have your heart set on camping, maybe you can join our hunting party. Better for strangers to be camping with locals who know the area and its threats than getting yourself killed on bear turf," Brian reasoned, his tone becoming amicable again.

"I'll keep that in mind," Dean promised, pulling the plastic bag containing his flares off the counter and getting set to leave before a passing query popped into his head.

"You said your brother's fiancé was injured by a bear? Can you tell me where she is now?"

XXXXXX

Sam looked up at the yellowed window as his ears caught the Impala's rumble as it pulled into the parking lot. Dean had been gone for hours and Sam had been getting worried. He knew his brother wouldn't ever leave him (_You're the one that runs away, Sam, _he told himself unhappily) but that didn't mean his brother wasn't angry enough to do something reckless like go into the woods by himself.

The door to their motel room opened and Sam felt a warm burrito land in his lap as his brother strolled in, clutching dinner, flares and the keys to the room and looking much calmer than he had earlier.

"You were gone a long time," Sam stated casually as he unwrapped his burrito.

Dean nodded around a mouthful of fries. "Yeah, sorry about that. I got talking to a local guy, Brian Myers, at the store. Nice guy – sold me the flares half price. Told me a bit about the killings. Said his kid brother's fiancé was attacked but she survived. Granted, she's missing one of her legs but she's alive."

"Oh, yeah? Have you spoken to her?" Sam asked, interest piquing.

"Yeah. Looks like a regular bear attack, man. Said that she didn't remember much but she remembered the bear coming at them in the woods. After that, nothing but heat and pain apparently," the older Winchester replied.

"So, does this mean there's nothing here?" Sam wondered aloud. Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and he blew out a breath.

"Looks like. I tried calling Dad, telling him there was nothing here and asking what to do next or whatever but he didn't answer. As usual," Dean replied, bitterly.

"I'm sorry, man." And Sam was sorry, for arguing, for Dad's absence, everything.

"'S'okay," Dean swallowed a mouthful of soda before piping up again. "I'd still like to spend one night out there, Sammy, though. Just one. Just so we know for sure. The locals are going bear hunting next week and more power to them if it is a bear but I don't want anymore innocent blood on our hands just because we didn't double check."

Sam sighed but he could see his older brother's logic. Just one night in a cold, damp forest where there wasn't anything to hunt anyway. He could handle it. Didn't mean he had to like it, but still.

After all, what could go wrong?

XXXXXX

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**A/N: What could go wrong, indeed? Pfft, you have no idea, Sam. Couldn't put it in the 'WARNINGS' bit of my A/N up there, since it might be considered spoiler-ish for this chapter before it ended, but I know next to nothing about the behaviour of bears. I think they're beautiful animals (they're my favourite, in fact!) but I can't deny I know very little about their behaviour, likelihood to attack humans, etc. Admittedly, these are things easily researched, and I have done some research for future chapters but it's meagre at best. So don't get too frustrated if you're an actual bear expert when reading later on in this fic and all my bear experience seems to be based on that crazy one at the end of Disney's 'The Fox and the Hound'. Because it is. **

**Ad Astra. **


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: It's 10:47 in sunny UK. I have college in less than an hour. I am not yet in any state to leave the house. I am also currently writing a 300 word Spanish essay, due in a couple of hours from now (and I know 300 words doesn't sound like a lot, but it totally is when you're writing in another language!). Yet, here I am. Updating. You're welcome.**

*****Side-note: THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR LOVELY REVIEWS, GUYS. And for all the following and faving that's been going on as well! You're all beautiful people, but you knew that already! Enjoy!**

**WARNINGS: OVERUSE OF REPETITIVE LETTERS TO DENOTE SHIVERING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Also, any mistakes spotted yet? No? Well, please keep an eye out for me anyway. Oh yeah, and I'm no zoologist. I don't know a THING about bears really! Just pretend I do. **

**SPOILERS: ************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**************DISCLAIMER: Yeah, no I still don't own. Never have, never will.**

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**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 2**

The Winchester brothers shuddered rhythmically as the fierce wind blew past the cheap tent Dean had gone back and bought at Brian's camping store. The temperature couldn't have been much more than 50 degrees and, with no adequate clothing to begin with, it was looking set to be a long night.

"C-can't b-b-believeee I w-went along with y-your sh-sh-s-stupid idea," Sam moaned, teeth chattering madly as he pulled his jacket more tightly around him.

"Ss-s-suck it up, S-Samantha. Jusss-Just a c-couple of hours t-til daylight," Dean bit back, shivering so badly his muscles cramped and ached with exertion. They had been trying to play cards but it had gotten to the point where it was too cold to do anything but shiver.

Dean had volunteered to take first watch but the raging wind and bone-chilling cold kept both brothers awake regardless of who tried to sleep. The older Winchester brought his hands to his mouth and breathed out, trying valiantly to warm his frozen fingers.

"R-remind me, wh-what'sss t-the fi-first sign of fr-frostbite?" Dean mumbled unhappily.

Sam chuckled sympathetically. He was sat on his own hands but couldn't tell which was worse; his fingers being crushed by his own massive body or being numb and blue like Dean's.

"W-whose i-idea wa-was this a-anyway?" Dean grunted.

"Yours, D-Dean. Y-Yours," Sam replied, hoping that now his brother had accepted this was a dumb idea, they could pack up and leave.

"F-first th-thing I'm doing i-is ca-calling Dad and g-gi-giving h-him a p-piece of my mind," the older hunter continued. Sam rolled his eyes; they both knew he wouldn't really, but if it made him feel better, Sam would play along.

"H-hey, Dean," Sam started and his brother looked up.

"Y-Yeah?"

"I'm s-sorry 'bout a-all the fi-fighting and st-stuff. I d-don't kn-know why I've b-been acting l-like a j-jerk la-lately but I'm s-sorry," Sam mumbled.

Dean shook his head. "'S'alright, S-Sa-Sammy. I've b-been a d-dick too. Fi-first th-thing we do w-when we get out-outta h-here is t-take a b-break. I wa-wanna f-find D-Dad, m-man, I do, b-but I th-think w-we ne-need a rest. Es-Especially a-after Jess. We need to r-relax. _You _n-need t-to relax."

The younger hunter nodded, seeing the sense in Dean's words. They'd been carrying on like this for too long. Sam was barely sleeping what with his nightmares and it wasn't fair. He was putting not only himself at risk, but his brother too and he couldn't have that on his conscience if something happened to Dean. Dad was alive, they knew that much from the text messages. A break was long overdue and much-needed.

"O-Okay, m-man. S-Soon as w-we're d-done here. Va-Vacation," the younger Winchester conceded and his older brother smiled.

"Aw-Awesome."

They sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe and watching the way vapour curled in the air with every exhale. Sam's mind wandered; fondly recalling times when they were younger, stuck in a crappy motel room with no heating and Dad two towns over. Dean would grab all the quilts and blankets he could find and settle them both down on the couch where they'd huddle together and drink in each other's warmth.

Sam's lips twitched as he remembered how Dean would pretend he was smoking a cigarette, vapour twisting and floating upwards in a way that left Sammy in awe at his older brother's coolness. Then, he'd pretend he was a dragon, breathing fire and warming them both up. It was an embarrassing memory but it left Sam feeling lighter and he felt any residual tension left over from the days of arguing dissipate like the vapour he was breathing.

Suddenly, a heavy snap somewhere in the clearing around them brought Sam out of his reverie and his eyes met Dean's. There was a whine followed by a huffed growl and more twigs cracked and snapped as heavy paws marched over them.

"Well I'll be damned," Dean muttered, hurriedly switching off the battery-powered lantern that hung on the tent ceiling.

"I thought bears weren't nocturnal?" Sam asked, careful to keep his voice low and feeling for his brother's ankle in the darkness. It wasn't being childish, Sam told himself. This was survival; he needed to know exactly where his brother was in case things went south.

"The guy at the store told me the construction work on the opposite side of the woods has thrown them all outta whack. Dammit, I can't believe it showed up," the older Winchester whispered hotly, chattering teeth ceasing as adrenaline began to flood his system. "I mean, wendigoes I get. Bears on the other hand..."

"Shh!" Sam muttered, hearing the animal whine and groan right by his head. He felt Dean's hand shift from where it had been clutching his wrist and felt the cold barrel of the rifle they'd brought being pressed into his empty hand. That left Dean with the flare gun. _Crap, Dean. Why do you always do this? I'm not a kid anymore! I have to look out for you as much as you look out for me! _

Sam tried to push the rifle back but Dean was insistent. Sam was about to whisper his protests when he felt the tent bend as the grizzly sniffed the thin material. It growled and panted as it caught the scent of the prey inside and the tent began to rock as the bear tried to bully its way in.

It roared fiercely, assault becoming much fiercer as its claws raked clean through the flimsy material. Dean wasted no time in pulling out his knife and dragging it through his side of the tent, tumbling out, flare gun in tow, and yanking his little brother out with him. The sky outside was a faded dark blue as dawn began to break and provided just enough light to make out shapes with.

"RUN!" Dean yelled, pulling Sam up and making a beeline for the trees. Sam, still clutching the rifle like a lifeline, fired a few wild shots over his shoulder. In response, the bear bellowed furiously, becoming confused for a moment as it worked its way through what was left of the tent. Sam dived for the nearest tree, subconsciously remembering a nature documentary he'd watched as a child about how grizzlies couldn't climb like their black bear counterparts.

He grabbed the lowest branch, which was just within reach, and felt muscles tear in his arms as he desperately pulled himself up. His left shoulder slipped out of its socket and he yelped with pain, dropping the rifle, but not stopping until he was high out of the bear's reach.

"Dean!" he called out, fear colouring his tone. He looked out desperately as the bear freed itself from the tent tangle and began searching for its missing prey.

"Sammy, give me a hand!" Dean replied, his voice suddenly coming from below his younger brother. His flare gun had disappeared, likely dropped in the frantic hurry to the tree-line. With both hands, Dean reached up; the branch Sam had just managed to reach was just out of Dean's slightly-shorter grasp and Sam instantly shuffled lower as he tried to frantically pull his older brother up.

The younger Winchester wanted to tell his brother to pick a different tree – the branches on this one clearly weren't low enough for Dean to reach – but a quick scan of his surroundings told Sam that all of the nearest trees had branches even higher up than the one Sam currently resided in.

The bear yowled and snarled behind Dean as it caught Dean's scent and began barrelling towards him. Dean tried to hang on to Sam but Sam's shoulder was weak from the dislocation and both of their palms were numb with cold. The bark surface was icy which meant Dean couldn't get a grip on it with his shoes either.

As Dean slipped down again once more and Sam shouted with pain as his dislocated shoulder protested the intense movement, the bear sprinted ever closer and suddenly it was upon them, wrenching Dean from Sam's tentative grip and pulling him down in a wash of brown fur.

XXXXXX

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**A/N: A...cliffhanger? A totally unrealistic bear? Sam and Dean CAMPING? WTF?!**

**You didn't seriously think any semblance of plot would last, did you? It's started to jump ship, _women-and-children-first_-style from here on out. But you don't really mind, do you, because you do know Dean's gonna get the crap kicked out of him from here on out? Or does he...?**

**(LMAO. No. Seriously. He does.)**

**Ad Astra.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Only gone and contracted a frigging virus. Not to mention, if it weren't for the fact my tutor is being a complete babe and letting me submit on Monday, I'd totally be missing today's deadline to apply to my chosen universities which means not getting a degree, not getting a good job, getting into debt, spiralling into financial and emotional turmoil, becoming addicted to some form of narcotics or alcohol, getting arrested, spending time in prison and finally dying alone in my prime of life on probation in a crappy bedsit surrounded by stray cats because, let's face it, I'd never be able to afford my own cats. **

**(Basically, I'm suffering, bored, sick and tired and SOMEONE'S gotta share my pain. Guess it's gonna be Dean then...Enjoy!)**

**WARNINGS: I'm ill and can't see straight. Mistakes are probably lurking. Also, I said I wasn't a zoologist last chapter (I'm still not, just FYI) and neither am I a doctor. The very basics of medical research were done, blah, blah, yadda, yadda. (Let's face it, we're all here for unrealistic levels of Dean-whump anyway, aren't we?)**

**SPOILERS: No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John. **

**DISCLAIMER: SOD OFF.**

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 3**

"Dean, no!" Sam screamed as the bear ripped Dean away. It tossed his older brother effortlessly and Sam heard Dean's grunt of pain as he landed brutally on his right side. The bear charged again, bringing its massive front paws up into the air as it stood on two legs before collapsing heavily and landing on Dean's chest.

Sam heard Dean cry out and watched in horror as a spray of blood spurted up and out of Dean's open mouth. He tried to pull himself down the tree trunk faster but his dislocated shoulder was swelling fast and preventing mobility. He couldn't just drop either, not from that height, or he'd risk breaking both his legs and having no way of getting Dean to safety.

_Hang on, hang on, please hang on. The gun's right there. I'm coming, I'm coming..._

The blood Dean hacked up seemed to drive the bear into a frenzy and he cried out again as the bear sunk its teeth into his thigh. The animal's massive head inched higher and it bit down again, teeth crunching as they met with Dean's hipbone. The older Winchester couldn't help it; he screamed then and his vision went white with agony.

Meanwhile, Sam's stomach dropped at Dean's bloodcurdling shriek of pain and he jumped from the tree, realising that there was no time to be wasted. Dean was being _eaten alive _and he was going to _die _if Sam couldn't get to that gun and finish the bear off _now_. His legs protested the jump and the sudden impact jarred his shoulder but thankfully his shin bones didn't snap. Picking up the rifle, Sam aimed it at the grizzly bear that was killing his brother.

"HEY!" he yelled, hatred for the animal in front of him making his tone sound violent and explosive. The bear turned at the sudden noise behind it and Sam fired, the round disappearing into the bear's skull right between its surprised eyes.

The creature fell, rolling to the floor and Sam was grateful for small mercies that its carcass didn't land on Dean. Abandoning the gun, Sam ran to his older brother's side and skidded to a halt on his knees next to him.

"Dean! Dean! Oh, God. Dean," Sam gasped as he assessed the damage. He seemed to be able to only repeat Dean's name as he quickly pulled out his cell and dialled 911. Mary Winchester must have been looking out for her sons and Sam thanked her over and over in his mind as his cell phone displayed that one precious bar that indicated a signal. The operator answered and, after a quick exchange of words, informed him that a helicopter was being dispatched to their location.

In the meanwhile though, that left Sam to try and keep his brother alive. He quickly yanked off his jacket and wrapped his unconscious sibling up, ignoring his bad shoulder as his whole world narrowed to the objective of keeping Dean alive. Dean gasped at the movement as it exacerbated his wounds and his eyes shot open, pupils blown and leaving just the tiniest sliver of green to line the iris.

"Hey, hey! You're alright, take it easy, I've got you. I've got you. I'm gonna take care of _you_ this time, you big jerk. Nothing's gonna happen, you're gonna be fine, Dean. Just fine," Sam babbled as Dean's eyes rolled in their sockets.

"Please," he choked out, the tears that had been gathering in his eyes spilling over and running down his cheeks. "You can't leave me, man. Please. You and me, it's us against the world, right? You can't go. Please don't go."

"Sssssssaammy," Dean breathed, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. There was nothing Sam could do for the broken ribs and likely punctured lungs but he could treat some of his other injuries.

Sam took off his belt and quickly deployed it as a makeshift tourniquet when it became apparent that Dean's femoral artery had been nicked. It was a dangerous decision and Dean could lose his leg but the alternative was having him bleed out. He splinted the broken hip with mossy branches gathered around them and pressed down through his jacket against the bleeding wound in Dean's side. He carefully pulled Dean up and cradled him against his chest, rocking them both gently.

"You're gonna be fine, I promise," Sam mumbled, pressing his cheek to Dean's damp, spiky hair and letting his tears run down his face.

"Sss-ssu-sucha g-gi-gi-girlllll," Dean hissed, his voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.

Sam sobbed out a laugh. "I know, dude, I know." He carefully wiped the blood from Dean's face and kept pressure on the wound in Dean's side.

"'S'okay, S-Saammy. D-Doessssn't hu-hurt a-anymore," the older Winchester mumbled, floating in a cool abyss.

Sam pushed down harder, feeling blood trickle between his fingers and Dean's eyes shot open and he blanched.

"Sorry, bro. I'm sorry. But you've gotta stay awake, alright? No laying down on the job. I need you as lookout. What if something out here tries to get me?" Sam tried to appeal to his older brother's protective side and he was rewarded with a limp hand, slick with blood, rising up and weakly gripping at his undershirt.

"Sam, ssssomet'ings w-wrong..." Dean's voice trailed off after a few minutes of silence.

"What, man? What is it?!" the younger Winchester demanded, feeling his heart pound faster in response to his brother's plight.

"I..." Dean gagged and Sam barely had time to react as Dean vomited scarlet blood onto the frosty grass under them.

"Easy, easy. You're okay, I've got you," the younger hunter murmured as Dean gasped out shallow breaths and tears leaked from his eyes. Distantly, Sam could hear the flickering of helicopter blades above them and ran his fingers through Dean's hair.

"You hear that, Dean? You're gonna be fine, okay? I won't let anything happen to you, alright?" Sam promised, feeling dizzy and weak with relief. The pain of his own dislocated shoulder had faded to numbness as he held up his older brother and kept pressure on Dean's wound where the bear had ripped away his flesh.

Dean just nodded feebly, his breaths coming in short, wheezy gasps. He coughed once and it was a thick, wet noise, emphasised by the fresh dribble of scarlet that slipped down his chin and trickled into his collar. As his world began fading into a mere pinprick of light and sound, he could hear a chopper swooping noisily in the air above him.

There was a rushing wind blowing all around him and it was bitterly cold. He pressed his head into Sam's chest and felt his baby brother's grip tighten. Sammy was screaming at something or someone and he felt something land next to him. Then, there were hands, stronger than Sammy's hands, lifting and tugging and pulling until he was completely flat on something hard. But the flatness made his breathing worse and it _hurt_, _God, it hurts! Somebody help me! _

The pain was blinding and he couldn't scream, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. There were straps, holding him to the flat surface he was lying on and the helicopter was still wiggling in the sky above him. The pain spiked once more and _Sammy, I think I'm dying _was Dean's last thought as his eyes slipped shut and then he was flying...

XXXXXX

* * *

**A/N: Do I feel better? Meh, I'm still sick, but it makes me feel good knowing Dean is in pain too! I just realised they're totally in the woods...yet casually a helicopter is all 'TALL TREES, DESPITE MY LONG HELICOPTER BLADE/PROPELLER THINGS? STILL NOT A PROBLEM, GUYS!' So yeah, um, let's pretend they ARE in the woods...it's just they're in a really big clearing! Like really big...**

**Ad Astra.**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I have recovered! About FRICKIN' time! What began as a virus mutated into an ear and lung infection that left me on antibiotics and kept me off college for a week. Qualifications, who needs them? I'll always have fanfic. Anyway, thank you all EVER SO MUCH for all the kind reviews and well-wishes that were left when I last updated. I can't remember when it was, it might not be as long ago as I thought, I'm just chronologically-confused right now thanks to not leaving the house for a Jurassic era. But yes, many thanks again for all the reviewing and faving and following, and especially to the 'Guest' reviewer of last chapter whom I couldn't thank personally. You're all babes and you know Dean Winchester would date all of you at once if he could. And if he was real. Enjoy!**

**WARNINGS: Something, something, possible mistakes. If you find one, kill it with fire and bring me its ashes. Also, from here on out the medical jargon begins! YES. I have done hardly any research so you might find (if you belong in the medical profession in RL) that this fic suddenly and unintentionally descends into comedy gold. Blame the people of Yahoo! answers. They're where I got it all from. **

**SPOILERS: ****No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**DISCLAIMER: TROLOLOLOL.**

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 4**

Sam watched, stomach twisting and clenching, as Dean was lifted up on his stretcher and swung through the air into the sky and waiting chopper above. Absentmindedly, he heard and felt the clicks and clunks of buckles and harness fastenings as he too was attached to a stretcher. He felt oddly light, buzzing with nervous energy, eager to be by Dean's side and after a few moments, the attending EMT signalled to the helicopter and Sam was also winched into the air. The stretcher was pulled inside after what felt like an eternity and the younger Winchester flinched and strained, keen for the buckles of his harness to be released so he could go to his brother's side. He glanced over to the prone older hunter and desperately drank in the sight of the older Winchester being treated by a further two paramedics, who were frantically relaying both instructions and Dean's vitals back and forth.

"What's happening with my brother?!" Sam demanded, as the paramedic looming over him freed the younger hunter and began to secure his bad shoulder.

"Sir, please relax. We are treating your brother but you have to understand, he is in a very critical condition and it's not advisable to disrupt my colleagues while they are trying to help him, okay?"

It wasn't okay, not at all, and things plummeted even further as a monitor attached to Dean suddenly clamoured loudly, announcing that Dean's blood pressure was dropping and that his heart was giving out.

Scrambling upright and using only one arm as his other was in a sling and taped to his chest, Sam crawled to his brother's side and grabbed his hand. Dean's shirts and Sam's jacket had been cut off, leaving his bloodied and blackened torso exposed. His amulet that had faithfully dangled around his neck since Sam had given it to him as a child still rested on his breast bone, but Sam was dismayed to see that the string that held it together had been split.

Sam released Dean's palm for a moment and gathered the tiny, bloodstained object in his hand and closed his fist around it. Glancing at the shredded string and the scarlet-stained brass figure, the younger Winchester couldn't help but fear that the broken amulet was acting as a metaphor for his brother's body.

He caught Dean's hand again and let Dean's palm press against the object, reassuring his sibling that the amulet was still there, even though Dean was unconscious and probably couldn't tell the difference. Leaning in close, he whispered softly in the older hunter's ear.

"When you get better, we're gonna fix this, alright? Meantime, I'll take care of it for you. I didn't give it to you so you could break it, now did I?" Sam smiled, tears shining in his eyes as his brother's heart continued to decline. _Don't do this, Dean. Please don't._

The journey to the hospital was made in just over ten minutes, though Sam would be hard-pressed to recall any of it later save for the fact that Dean continued to decline for the remainder of the flight. The helicopter bumped once against the ground before settling fully and Dean was swept out onto a gurney with Sam following close behind under his own steam, despite the protests of the trauma team.

They entered the hospital, patients and uninvolved doctors and nurses watching with sympathy and pity as Dean crashed. A portable defibrillator seemed to materialise out of nowhere and shouts of "CLEAR!" followed by shocks of electricity that jolted through Sam's body, passing between the brothers' joined hands, just as they jolted through Dean's.

He was gone for a moment, the doctors managing to restart his heart but, almost as quickly as the rhythm came back, it began to fade again and Sam's world compressed until all he could focus on was the beeping, the _damn beeping, _as Dean fought for life.

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Sam ran with the gurney as it was rushed through the corridor and towards the operating theatre. He could hear murmurs carrying words like '_surgery_' and '_critical condition_' and '_unstable_' floating around him. More nurses and doctors swarmed him, trying to jostle him from his place at Dean's side but the younger Winchester refused to relinquish his grip on his older brother's cold hand.

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Focusing so hard he could hear the blood pounding in his ears and calling on all his reserves, including his psychic thing, Sam tried diligently to transfer some of his own strength to his dying brother; it was a pipe dream, but he had to try. The monitor attached to the metal frame was blaring wildly, declaring nose-diving vitals.

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

An attractive female doctor straddled Dean's bloodied torso, rhythmically squeezing an Ambu bag, trying to force Dean's shredded lungs to breathe. Sam kept up a mantra inside his head, his lips muttering nonsensical words and phrases, noiselessly praying for the older hunter' survival. _C'mon, Dean. C'mon, man. Please. You can't do this to me, you can't, you can't, youcan'tyoucan'tyoucan'tyoucan't..._

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

"Sir, we are doing everything we can. Please step away from your brother. Sir? Sir? _Sir..._" Voices buzzed in Sam's ears but he couldn't respond, couldn't do anything except watch his brother die. _There's so much blood! _It was everywhere, coating Dean, coating Sam, smeared on the metal frame of the gurney and staining the sheets. It was on the trauma team, on their hands, in their hair. _Dean's blood..._

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

"You cannot go in there! Somebody call security!" And then there were hands, pulling Sam's entire 6'4" frame away. He struggled, yelling for his brother, yelling for him to live, to _survive..._He felt himself being pushed down into a chair, a paper bag being placed over his mouth and nose and being instructed to breathe into it. But he couldn't breathe, he couldn't, because Dean was dying, maybe already dead _RIGHT NOW and please, I have to help him, save him..._He could still hear the machines, ringing in his ears.

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Someone's calling for a sedative but all Sam can feel is the white noise surrounding him and, _please God, _he needs his brother. He's lost Jess and he can't lose Dean too. He won't, he just won't.

Suddenly, there's a prick in his arm and he's falling, sliding to the ground with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. He can't move or speak and he's tired, _so tired..._But he needs Dean but not now, he'll have to wait, _have to, _until he's slept for just a little while.

And as the younger hunter's eyes slip closed, the last thing he spies is Dean's amulet, curled up in his fist, the brown string and gold brass drenched in tacky, crimson blood...

_Beep...Beep...Beep..._

XXXXXX

When Sam woke, an indistinguishable amount of time later, awareness came slowly. His heart knew that there was something very important taking place that he was missing but, try as he may, he could not get his body to cooperate all at once and ended up drifting back under the surface.

Finally, he awoke with a clear mind and his body, though still heavy and lethargic, was back under his control. He'd been stripped of his shirt, he realised, as he came to in a hospital bed and his arm was in a different sling than the one before. They'd probably popped his shoulder back in its socket while the hunter had been unconscious.

Sam surveyed the hospital room and caught sight of his brother's amulet on the bedside table beside him and his heart lurched into his throat. Frantically, the younger Winchester searched around for the call button and pressed it a number of times, blood rushing in his ears.

Within seconds, a nurse strolled in and moved to Sam's side, reading his medical notes and shining a penlight in his eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she joked perkily, not noticing Sam's distress. He grabbed her hand and she blinked.

"Please. My brother. He was brought in with me. I need to know how he is," Sam pleaded, unintentionally deploying what Dean called the 'puppy-dog eyes'. They worked their typical charm and the nurse caved instantly.

"I'll fetch your doctor. She has some questions for you too," the nurse replied and she scurried out of the room.

_Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive, _Sam chanted in his head. The agony of not even knowing if his older brother was still breathing was killing him.

"Good evening," a middle-aged female greeted, bringing Sam out of his mind. "Now, I understand you want to know about your brother but I'm afraid we need to go through some technicalities first."

Sam balked. He didn't care about _technicalities_; he just wanted to know if his brother was still alive!

"You were brought in without giving us your name. So let's start with that and then we'll move onto your brother's wellbeing, okay?" the doctor continued to probe, oblivious to Sam's anxiety.

"Sam. My name's Sam...Wesley. My brother's name is Dean," he replied hurriedly, plucking the name out of thin air, knowing he had an insurance card with that name on it back at the motel and hoping the more forthcoming he was with information, the more forthcoming the doctor would be too.

"Hello, Mr Wesley. My name's Dr Paisley and I'm overseeing both you and your brother's treatment," Dr Paisley replied. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

"First thing's first, Mr Wesley, Dean is alive-" and Sam could have passed out from the sudden onslaught of _relief _that filled his veins.

"-However, I'm going to be honest with you, Sam," Dr Paisley continued, adopting the use of Sam's first name which caused his heart to drop into his stomach. She seemed to understand that Sam would want information on his brother's condition before his own and refused to leave him in the dark on his brother's wellbeing a moment longer.

"Your brother is a very sick man."

XXXXXX

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**A/N: Did I spy a wild prologue in there, you may be wondering. Well, yes. Yes, you did. This is the chapter the prologue is from (I can feel all your 'NO SHIT, SHERLOCKs' from here) so in theory the story should begin now to ascend to literary grace by reaching a fulfilling and stirring climax with a touching and satisfying ending and the possible use of ellipses and other technical devices to create intriguing moments of genuine tension and reaffirm the psychological and emotional attachment between the two brothers.**

**...Or not.**

**Ad Astra.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, I can only apologise for the delay in posting. Apparently, I entered some sort of vortex-time-volcano-I-don't even-know-what-okay-what-do-you-care-this-isn't-your-life-shut-up-get-out-wait-come-back-iloveyou. **

**But yeah, it was called 'The Last Week of College', followed by its crazy, even better sequel called 'Christmas'. There was an apocalypse rumoured to be on the horizon too on the 21st...I presume Sam and Dean had that one covered SINCE IT DIDN'T FUCKING HAPPEN. WORLD, YOU COCKTEASE. Anyway, long story short, I thought it hadn't been as long as it has, if that makes any sense whatsofreakingever. Hope you've all had a wonderful Christmas, or refreshingly normal 25th of December if you don't celebrate! Maybe I'll post two chapters today to make up for the lack, depending on how many reviews I get! (That's right - I went there. Consider this our belated fanfic Christmas present exchange. Reviews = super fast extra chapters. Go on, just this once. It's Christmas. Barely.) Speaking of reviews, thanks so much to you all for the ones already left for previous chapters, as well as the faves and follows! I can only hope the rest of this fic lives up to expectation! (LMAO, it so doesn't, what have you guys let yourselves in for?) Enjoy!  
**

**WARNINGS: You know the drill, soldiers. Mistakes require a double-tap to the head and heart and a full briefing to the director of this fic to ensure their remains are properly disposed of. Oh, and medical research? Might as well be a freaking unicorn made of buttercream for all its existence in this chapter. **

**SPOILERS: ********No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**DISCLAIMER: Disclaimer, get out of my ass! **

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 5**

"Your brother is a very sick man."

At that, Sam was torn between feeling relief that Dean was still alive and apprehension toward the long list of injuries that was sure to come.

"Dean received many injuries, a lot of which were life-threatening. His chest, to put it bluntly, was crushed. You said to the 911 operator that the bear _stood_ on him?" Sam nodded. "Well, your brother sustained a total of eight broken and five cracked ribs, with the worst fractures being on the right-hand side of his body. Because some of the ribs were fractured all the way, some of the fragments shifted and this unfortunately led to complications."

"What kind of complications?" Sam asked fearfully, his heart still fluttering in his chest.

"Your brother has what we call a pneumothorax, more commonly known as punctured lung. We had to surgically re-inflate his lung and he's been put on a ventilator. The problem with this, though, is that Dean is beginning to develop pneumonia, as a result of both the ventilator and the rib wrappings. I'm also guessing the ill-advised night out in the woods in sub-zero temperatures with inadequate clothing hasn't helped his case either?" she phrased the sentence as a question and Sam's cheeks flushed slightly in response, feeling responsible for his brother's plight and mortified as a result. Dr Paisley noted this and raised an eyebrow in response, surprised by the younger Winchester's reaction.

"Still, we are monitoring it closely and have put your brother on strong intravenous antibiotics but the pneumonia on top of the punctured lung is still an issue. You should also know that the pair of you were in the beginning stages of hypothermia when you were brought in. Now that you're awake we're going to start you, Sam, on a course of oral antibiotics to prevent a full-on lung infection developing."

"Okay, but...what lung infection? I haven't even got a cough!" Sam questioned blearily, his mind still trying to catch up after it had stumbled over the colossal wall that was the extent of Dean's predicament.

Dr Paisley seemed to understand and smiled kindly. "And let's try to keep it that way, shall we? After you were, well...'put down', so to speak, by security, I took the liberty of listening to your lungs and heard the beginnings of a chest infection, likely another result of this camping trip you embarked on. A seven-day course of antibiotics and you should be fine, is that alright?"

"Yeah, fine...uh...Doc, my brother?" Sam breathed, trying to focus on Dr Paisley's next words. Her lips pursed and a dissatisfied expression settled on her aged features. The younger Winchester internally braced himself for what else could be to come.

"Your brother also suffered major internal bleeding, thanks to blunt force trauma to many of his abdominal organs, but this was treated during surgery and, although he needed several transfusions, that shouldn't present anymore problems. Moving onto his other injuries, Dean's femoral artery was nicked and his hip bone was fractured. He lost a lot of blood but, like I said, he received multiple transfusions and the artery was repaired. His hip bone needed to be stabilised using metal plates and screws but the prognosis looks good and we anticipate between three and six months recovery time for that."

Sam nodded, immensely grateful that Dean hadn't lost his leg and wondering how he'd ever convince his brother to remain in one place long enough to let his hip bone heal.

"Our biggest concern right now is infection, Sam. Your brother also had a major wound to his side and, as a result, we had to remove his kidney. Now, we-"

"Wait! What?! You removed his _kidney?!_" Sam repeated, shock distorting his features.

"People live perfectly normal lives with just one kidney, Sam," the doctor reminded him gently. _Yeah, but they don't have our lives, _Sam thought despondently.

"As I said, the kidney was removed but the biggest concern is infection. Obviously, the combination of an open wound in a forest environment and coated in bear saliva...Oh, my apologies-" the doctor offered as Sam blanched –"...it isn't going to be the cleanest injury site in the world and we're dismayed to see that an infection has begun to set in. I believe I mentioned earlier that your brother is on a strong course of antibiotics but I have to tell you, Sam, he doesn't seem to be responding to them."

"What?" Sam paled, his face dropping as he realised that Dean was not out of the woods by any means. Despite it all, the doctor had seemed almost optimistic about Dean's treatment, making everything seem treatable and never once questioning Dean's survival. Until now, of course.

_Because catching a break just once would be too easy, _the younger Winchester thought bitterly.

"The pneumonia, coupled with the infection, has made your brother very ill, Mr Wesley," Dr Paisley stated quietly, reverting back to Sam's fake last name. "If we can't find an antibiotic that Dean responds to within the next twelve hours then I'm afraid we'll be facing the possibility of septicaemia."

"Blood poisoning," Sam muttered, suddenly feeling ill.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. He has a high fever which is one of the first symptoms and that on its own will start to become a problem very soon if we can't bring it down. Your brother has done well to make it through this far, Sam. I've seen patients with lesser injuries not survive this long. He's certainly a fighter. However, you should understand that his situation is very serious and it's probably best to start preparing yourself for the worst," Dr Paisley explained and, though her words were soft, they barrelled into Sam like a freight train, stealing his breath and stabbing his heart.

She continued speaking for a few moments about Sam's own condition, something about putting his shoulder back in place and sprained ankles and reiterating about his chest infection and the agitated state he'd been in when he'd arrived with Dean at the hospital. Sam listened absently, his mind on Dean, and only spoke again when asked if he had any questions.

"Can I see him?" Sam whispered after a few moments.

The doctor touched his arm in understanding. "Of course. I'll have a nurse bring you a gown and take you to the ICU. He's been sedated, just while he's on the ventilator, and so probably won't make the liveliest of company but I'll arrange for you to have a chair brought to his room so you can stay with him for awhile."

Sam nodded his thanks, throat tight, and Dr Paisley smiled compassionately before getting up and leaving.

XXXXXX

A different nurse came in with a wheelchair and hospital gown and, once Sam was dressed, wheeled him up to Dean's room. He couldn't see the point in the wheelchair, seeing as he only had a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankles, but he wasn't about to argue, knowing that the quicker he complied, the faster he would get to see his brother.

As he was wheeled into Dean's room, he felt his stomach drop and a lump appeared in his throat at the sight of the older Winchester. The nurse deposited him at Dean's side and left, with instructions to press the call button on the wall if anything changed. Sam leaned over and tentatively touched Dean's sweaty cheek, biting his lip as tears once more came unbidden to his eyes.

His brother looked terrible.

With the exception of two identical scarlet patches dusting his cheeks, Dean was positively _grey. _His skin was glistening with sweat, dark blonde hair turned brown with saturation. The white medical tape that held the breathing tube in place gleamed starkly against Dean's corpse-like complexion.

His chest was still exposed and although there was no sign of any of the earlier blood, what was visible of the older hunter's torso was black and purple with bruises. The sheets had been left at his waistline, allowing for quick access to his wounds for the doctors. Bandages were holding together Dean's broken ribcage and a chest tube protruded from beneath Dean's armpit, presumably as a result of the pneumothorax. Dean's injured leg had been placed in a cast and elevated and Sam thought back to Dr Paisley's words about the hip fracture needing a minimum of three months to recover.

The worst sight, however, was the bite wound that had torn away the flesh on the left-hand side of his abdomen and resulted in the loss of his kidney. Huge white bandages swathed the swollen area, taped down forcefully against the ruined skin. _You're gonna have one hell of a scar, Dean, _Sam thought. The younger Winchester was dismayed to see the thin, red lines that trickled outwards from the bandage and displayed obvious signs of infection.

Mindful of the pulse ox clip on his brother's finger, Sam carefully unravelled the older hunter's amulet that he'd brought with him and tucked it into Dean's palm. He recalled Dr Paisley's words about preparing himself for the worst. He hadn't wanted to believe it; Dean was indestructible. Nothing could bring his larger-than-life brother down. Not some tiny infection or insignificant wound.

But as he gazed upon his still brother, looking so _young _and vulnerable, Sam could see him dying tonight. Could imagine his older brother slipping away peacefully among the slow beeps of a heart machine and the blank white bandages and it frightened him, more than monsters or spirits or demons ever could. He grasped Dean's palm and held on for dear life, offering his own strength for his brother to take. He could see it now and it was terrifying.

His brother might not last the night.

XXXXXX

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**A/N: Gutted, Dean. And I talk too much, I know. But I need your opinion****s, guys; I'm thinking of embracing Tumblr. Thoughts? Who recommends it over, say, MSN Messenger? (LOL, I'm totally kidding, no one uses that IM shit anymore.)**

**Ad Astra.**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Another chapter, another...year. Wow. Where did that come from?! Happy New Year, guys! I hope you all had a great time on the 31st and here's to the fabulous 2013! Let's make it sexy. **

**WARNINGS: Mistakes are like head-lice. Ewww. Wait. I don't even know where I was going with that analogy, but for real, I've grossed myself out enough to stop. I'm counting on the keen eyes of you guys to be my fine-toothed comb and anti-nit shampoo. Also...I'm not a doctor. I never was! (And if anyone caught the very vague 'Thor' reference there, please feel free to enter my life as a substantial presence rather than a series of pixels and codes and shit across the internet, because clearly we are meant to be buddies.)**

**SPOILERS: ************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John. **

**************DISCLAIMER: Supernatural = Disclaimed. **

* * *

**************Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 6**

Every fifteen minutes a nurse came in and took Dean's vitals, scrutinising the brothers with sympathy and sorrow_. It's a damn shame, really_, she contemplated. Both such handsome young men with everything to live for. The nurse would bet they were a real fearsome duo when they were together. Sadly, it was looking less and less likely that the injured one would make it. His fever had held steady at 103.1 degrees and it wasn't showing any sign of breaking.

After another routine check, the nurse came back with Dr Paisley and others, indicating it was time for a bandage change and wound re-assessment.

"Mr Wesley, this process may take awhile and you can't be in here while it's going on in case of contamination. Is there anyone we can call for you?" the nurse asked, ushering the tall, dazed man out.

"No, no thanks. I can do it," he replied, looking older than his twenty two years. "I'll probably head down to the cafeteria. Can you let me know as soon as they're done in there?"

The nurse smiled and nodded. "Of course. You'll be my first priority."

"Thanks," Sam replied, allowing the cogs to tick over in his mind. He went back to his room and fetched his cell phone before making his way to the cafeteria.

At this time of night, it was quiet. Food and drinks were still being sold and it was a large canteen but, catering staff excluded, there were maybe only three people inside, including Sam himself. It was about as private as he was going to get. With trembling fingers, Sam hurriedly dialled the one number he'd avoided for years. He could feel his heart picking up pace as the dial tones rang out and he waited for that voice he hadn't heard in so long to answer.

"_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean..." _Sam fought the urge to toss his cell phone across the cafeteria.

"'_Call my son Dean?'" Are you serious? Dean's dying, Dad, and you're nowhere to be found! _He thought furiously, feeling that familiar pit of anger and disappointment in his father well up. The voicemail ended and Sam took a calming breath. Despite their differences, it wasn't fair to keep his father in the dark on something as serious as this and, even though it hurt to admit it, he could really use John's strong presence right now.

"Hey, Dad. It's me. Hopefully you'll get this. Look, I know that...I know we haven't spoken for awhile. I can't give you all the details now but...Dad, me and Dean...we're hunting together again. I'll explain later, I promise...but I...I suppose none of that really matters now," Sam tried to steel himself but he could feel his voice rising in both speed and pitch.

"Dad, those hunts you've been sending us on...that last one...Dad, it was bogus. No werewolf, wendigo, nothing! It was just angry bears, just _stupid_, angry bears," Sam's voice cracked and he struggled to maintain his composure. "One of 'em got Dean, Dad. He...he's in the hospital. The doctors...he's working a pretty good infection and the doctors don't think he'll...Dad, they think he's gonna die!"

The younger Winchester broke down then and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to remain focused.

"Just...I know you're still mad at me and I know you said not to come back but it...it's Dean, Dad, and he's dying and I really need..." Sam's voice trailed off as the voicemail cut off. "Just call me back," he whispered, knowing the odds were against him. He released the cell phone and dropped his head into his working hand, running his fingers through his hair. The hunter debated buying some food but he had hardly any cash on him and he wasn't sure he could stomach it anyway.

"You alright, kid?" a voice sounded from above him. Sam flinched, inwardly berating himself for letting his guard down, and looked up.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine," Sam replied. The guy, an older man, frowned and sat down opposite him.

"What'd you do to your shoulder?" he asked.

"Dislocated it. Bear attack, of all things," and Sam chuckled grimly, fatigue and anxiety letting his words runaway with themselves as he began to converse with a total stranger. There was something comforting in being able to chat with a random person. Something that made Sam feel anonymous and human at once. Something that made Sam feel _normal_.

"That'll do it. We've had a string of attacks round these parts past few months. Innocent folk dying. My brother's fiancé is still in here, she lost her leg," the old guy shook his head dismally.

"Really? Hey, wait. Are you Brian Myers?" Sam asked, his interest piquing as he recalled Dean telling him about the store owner.

"One and the same. How do you know?" Brian replied, suspiciously.

"My brother...you talked to my brother. He said you sold him flares half price and that your brother's fiancé was injured," Sam explained rapidly.

"Oh, yeah. That boy...what was his name? Dean! Your brother is Dean?" Brian asked incredulously. "Don't tell me you boys went camping after all? Is your brother alright?"

"Not really," Sam replied, his voice becoming subdued. "I couldn't get to him in time. The thing was all over him. He's still alive but...it's not good."

"I'm sorry," Brian replied. "Your brother seemed like a good man."

"Don't talk about him like he's dead!" Sam snarled, his hand crashing down on the table and disrupting the condiment shakers. Just like that, the fragile illusion of normalcy Sam had craved in his nameless conversation collapsed. His brother was _dying_ and reality was back in full swing.

"Sorry, sorry!" Brian apologised.

Sam sighed and shut his eyes. "No, I'm sorry. Things are a little screwed right now, that's all."

"You and your brother still fighting?" the old man asked, grey eyes flickering with curiosity.

Sam's eyes shot open. "How did you know? Did Dean_ tell _you?" He could barely get his brother to open up to _him _so the thought of him opening up to someone that was basically a complete stranger left Sam with a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Not in so many words. But he mentioned he had a kid brother and I got the impression things were a little tense between the two of ya," the store owner explained.

"They were," the younger Winchester admitted. "But we worked it out. Figures a freakin' bear would show up and almost eat Dean alive when we finally get ourselves straightened out."

The old guy chuckled. "That's Murphy's law for you. Listen, Sam, I've gotta get going, give my own kid brother a ride home before he collapses from exhaustion, but you tell Dean from me that I hope he gets better soon. And you make sure you listen to your big brother in future, okay? Us older siblings put up with a lot," and though Brian's words seemed harsh, there was humour in his eyes and Sam found himself smiling back.

"Yes, sir," he replied and Brian nodded his goodbyes.

Sam remained at the cafeteria table for a few more minutes, idly checking his phone under the false illusion that maybe his dad would have phoned back in the last few minutes and he hadn't realised.

He hadn't.

"Mr Wesley?" Dr Paisley tapped his uninjured shoulder and moved into the seat Brian had been occupying moments before.

"Where's the nurse from earlier?" Sam wondered and then blushed when he realised how that must have sounded.

Dr Paisley laughed. "No, no. Don't be embarrassed. Lydia _is _much easier on the eyes than myself and she hasn't got the extra thirty years against her like I have. No, I just came to collect you to tell you that your brother's examination is over."

"Yeah? How is he?" the younger Winchester demanded.

The doctor sighed. "Unfortunately, the infection is beginning to spread. Dean's fever has risen and we've had to try a new regime of antibiotics. We're going to begin weaning him off both the sedative and the ventilator over the course of the next couple of hours to see if we can try and nip the pneumonia in the bud before it can help the infection and subsequent sepsis progress."

"Won't he be in pain?" Sam asked and he could hear even to his own ears how small and child-like his voice sounded.

"We're going to set up what's called an intrathecal morphine pump. Do you know what this is?" the doctor enquired.

"Morphine on demand, right?" Sam clarified and Dr Paisley nodded. "Am I still okay to stay with him?" A quick glance to the clock on the wall confirmed that visiting hours were over. Dr Paisley's lips turned down with indecision.

"I shouldn't be doing this, Sam. I could get into trouble with the health authorities, you know that, right?" And Sam waited with bated breath, praying that the doctor would bend the rules just this once. "But, for as long as Dean's condition is as serious as it is now, I'll permit you to be exempt from visiting hours and I'll make sure all of the nurses are aware. Just do as you're told and don't get in their way or we could have a problem." Dr Paisley smiled gently and Sam released the breath he'd been holding.

"Thank you, Doc," he said sincerely.

"Think nothing of it. Now, back to your own wellbeing for a moment, do you need anymore pain medication? You missed your last dose."

Sam considered the question for a moment and shook his head. His shoulder ached dully but it was a bearable pain and oddly comforting. It kept his mind sharp and focused, reminded him that he needed to be alert and protect his brother from any possible threat.

"Just take me to my brother, Doc."

XXXXXX

* * *

**A/N: Oops. My bad. Only a filler, I'm afraid! I promise Dean will make an appearance before the end of the week, perhaps even my birthday which is tomorrow in a gesture of goodwill, humility and generosity thanks to an abundance of birthday endorphins...Or I'll get totally wasted, break my 'haven't puked for nine years!' record as I did on New Years Eve and die from my misery before college restarts on the 7th...We'll see how it goes!**

**Ad Astra.**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I dunno what you think you're playing at, FF, making this font so tiny and faraway while I'm trying to type this. Douche. Anyway, hola. It's been awhile; I feel like I'm in a space film or something and my character's had an injury or been in a coma or just generally out of commission but I'm finally up and about and I go out to find my fellow survivors but everyone's dead or MIA so I end up taking the helmet off my astronaut suit and jumping into the abyss of space. Bit depressing, I know, but if any of you are still out there, feel free to make contact! **

**WARNINGS: Editing properly? Ain't nobody got time for that! If you spot a mistake, burst it like the zit it is. Ugh, why did I say that? Anyway, please also respect the fact that I pulled all of this medical jargon and stuff from the ass-end of the internet. Ain't nobody got time for getting a medical degree either. **

**SPOILERS: No real spoilers,**************** but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

******************DISCLAIMER: Bite me.**

* * *

******************Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 7**

Dean was floating in a cocoon of warmth. Inky darkness surrounded him, flickering shadows swaying in the beautiful white light above him. Occasionally, he swam up towards it and he would hear voices, blurry, muted voices coming at him as though travelling through a wall. It would get hot too, _so hot_, and he'd be forced to swim back down into the black depths below.

Each attempt was stronger than the one before and Dean knew he'd soon be able to break past that scorching white light and discover what lay beyond. Dean drifted for a moment longer, before barrelling into the luminescence above him once more. He ignored the heat and the sounds and continued his journey up.

Up, up, _up..._

XXXXXX

"Okay, the tube's out!" Dr Paisley cried, stepping back as her disorientated patient beneath her coughed wetly, his face a mask of pain as his broken and cracked ribs protested violently. She instructed the nurse to fit Dean's oxygen mask and called his younger brother back into the room.

"He's quite incoherent, that's because of the fever," the doctor explained as she guided Sam to the chair at Dean's bedside. "However, I'm sure he could use a comforting face if he does open those pretty green eyes of his and I've often said family are the best medicine," Dr Paisley continued, winking. She departed then, along with the nurses, giving Sam some valuable time with his older brother.

It had been three hours since Sam's trip to the cafeteria. To his disappointment (but not to his surprise), John had not phoned back. He'd debated contacting Pastor Jim or Bobby Singer after his father's discouraging lack of response, but all thoughts of talking to others flew out of his mind when Dean began to show signs of waking. Finally, Dean had been awake enough to remove the breathing tube and Sam was looking forward to seeing his brother's eyes for the first time in nearly twenty four hours.

He watched with concern at the way Dean's eyes twitched beneath his lids and gently called Dean's name. Without warning, the older Winchester pulled them open, sweat running into the hollows of his cheeks and looking like tears.

"S'my," he breathed, fogging up the oxygen mask as his fevered, pain-filled gaze met Sam's own. His voice was thin and grating as a result of the tube. It made Sam's eyes water just to hear it.

"Dean, hey," Sam soothed, careful to keep his voice low. "Take it easy, dude. You've got a nasty infection working you over right now."

"Whaa' h'ppen'd?" Dean questioned, his voice weak and strained.

"Bear attack, man. I-It...It got you pretty good," Sam replied, feeling his voice splinter and crack in his throat as he tried to hold back tears at the memory of Dean being ripped apart. "Do you remember any of it?"

Dean's forehead wrinkled for a moment as he tried to force both the question and the memory of the attack through his drug and fever-addled brain. His breathing was wheezy, every inhale and exhale sounding painfully raw and clouding up the oxygen mask that clung limply to his face.

"'Member p-pain..." Dean's voice trailed off as he began to cough. He choked and gasped, face contorting with agony as his shattered ribs creaked with the motion of coughing. With Sam's help, he threw himself forward and heaved desperately, broken noises escaping his throat as he tried to dislodge whatever thick substance was stopping him from breathing.

"Careful, Dean! You gotta calm down, man. Just breathe through it," and it was a testament to how terrible Dean must have felt that he didn't make a joke about Sam acting like his midwife.

Sam punched the call button when it appeared that Dean's struggle showed no signs of abating and the nurse from earlier appeared. She rushed over and grabbed an emesis basin and pounded on Dean's bruised back in just the right place. Oily mucus spewed from Dean's mouth and he coughed and retched horribly as Sam lightly rubbed circles on his shoulder. He murmured comfortingly in Dean's ear, hoping to help ease some of his older brother's distress.

Eventually, the coughing fit ceased and Dean laid back, bare chest panting and sweating with exertion. The nurse brought a folded cloth to Dean's lips and carefully wiped away the blood that had accumulated there. Sam tried not to panic; _it's just a symptom of the pneumonia, _he told himself. The coughing fit had visibly drained Dean and left him shaking, his grey face awash with agony.

"S'my," he pleaded and Sam understood. Reaching for the button that controlled the intrathecal morphine pump, Sam pressed down and delivered a dose of morphine to the older Winchester's body.

It worked. Within minutes, Dean was relaxing and, though still obviously ill, his face was no longer shaded with pain.

The nurse busied herself in the background, checking Dean's vitals and making sure that an emesis basin and ice chips were within the vicinity. She left for a moment, but came back with a bowl filled with tepid water and a washcloth. She put it on the bedside table closest to Sam.

"His temperature is still too high and it seems to be spiking again," she informed him and Sam's face dropped as he watched his brother groan and gasp in the light sleep he'd drifted into as a result of the morphine. "Just wipe this across his face, neck and chest, obviously being careful of the bandages. Hopefully we can cool him down a little."

Sam thanked her, appreciating that she seemed to understand he _needed _to take care of his brother somehow. Finding it difficult to manage one-armed, Sam pulled his bad shoulder out of the sling and dropped it to the floor by his ankles. The dull ache was still there but it wasn't an all-consuming pain that needed to be taken care of. In fact, he didn't even notice it as he gently swept the cool washcloth along his brother's body, feeling pleased as Dean seemed to settle into a deeper sleep.

He continued with the motion until the heat of Dean's body began to warm up the washcloth and impede any relief Dean might have been getting from the cool water. The nurse (Lydia, Sam remembered) came back and removed the bowl of water, returning to take Dean's temperature again. She frowned at the result as the older Winchester writhed listlessly on the bed, much to Sam's unhappiness, and left to fetch Dr Paisley.

"Honestly, Mr Wesley, I'll never see to my other patients if you're going to keep me in here all night," the doctor complained, somewhat fondly. Sam fought the urge to smile. Matronly women always seemed to mother Dean. "You said his temperature has risen to 103.4, Lydia?"

"That's correct, Doctor," Lydia replied, showing the doctor Dean's medical notes. Sam squeezed Dean's burning hand as he continued to thrash weakly and felt him settle a little beneath his grip. He looked on anxiously between the doctor and the nurse, fear for his older brother's condition plain on his face.

"Okay, put him on Phenazon. Also, arrange for some fans to be brought in," Dr Paisley decided and Sam felt himself relax a little.

"Phenazon?" he piped up, wanting to remain as informed as possible on his brother's condition.

"It's a drug to help reduce fever, Sam," Dr Paisley explained. "Like I said earlier, if we can't bring it down-"

"Dean?"

The doctor's explanation was cut short and Sam whipped his head downward as he felt Dean's hand go rigid in his. There was a moment of stillness, Dean seemingly at peace for a second, and then the convulsions began.

XXXXXX

* * *

**A/N: A shorty chapter this time. Sorry, that cliffhanger was too good to resist. I might update again later today because it's been awhile and I'm spontaneous like that.**

**Ad Astra.**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Day No. Unknown in the Supernatural fanfiction zone. The font size situation is still unimproved. As I type this, I feel like I might as well be writing in hieroglyphs or Mayan or something. No one will ever be able to make sense of these messages, not when I can barely decipher them myself. I just don't understand where things went wrong! Was it the website yet again fixing something that wasn't broken, or my eyesight declining to the same level of that old guy in the Specsavers advert who shaves his dog instead of the sheep? I guess I'll never know...it's getting harder...and harder to see...migraine...is impending from all this...squinting...everything is so tiny and...faraway...I don't understand...why...FF, why...?**

**Seriously though, WTF, FF? Let me bust out my deerstalker and magnifying glass to freaking read what I'm typing. What do I have to do to get size 12 Arial around here? Sacrifice a pig?  
**

**Anyway, thank you all for such a heartwarming response after so prolonged an absence. I felt like Jesus returning from resurrection or something. Is that blasphemous? Okay, maybe not Jesus but perhaps Justin Timberlake after a comeback concert or whatever. Thanks also to the guest of last chapter, Shazza, who kindly informed me of a mistake I made earlier on in the fic with regard to the actual temperature an environment would have to be in order to develop hypothermia. I'm going to do some more research into it and rectify it as soon as possible. Thank you all so much again! **

**WARNINGS: Every year, thousands of mistakes make their way into fanfics unintentionally. Donate just a minute of your day and you too could help an unsuspecting author get rid of these mistakes and continue to create a healthy, satisfied fanfiction. Thank you. Also, shit gets vaguely AU towards the end with a certain Winchester patriarch making a sly appearance. You've been warned.**

**SPOILERS: ****************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**************DISCLAIMER: Kick it in the ass.**

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 8**

"Dean!" Sam cried, being shoved aside by Dr Paisley as she demanded help from the nurses and other doctors.

Lydia carefully but firmly pulled Sam into the corner of the room, allowing him to remain in sight of his seizing sibling but out of the way of the staff. Dean flailed wildly, his eyes open despite being unconscious, and his limbs twitched painfully. The heart monitor flashed to life as Dean's irregular respiration began to affect his heartbeat and the sound blared obnoxiously in Sam's ears.

Sam could hear Dr Paisley calling for the Phenazon and timing the length of the seizure. They were up to three minutes when Dean gave a massive, heaving breath, thick with congestion, and went limp against the mattress. He coughed weakly, bathed in sweat and once again trembling with exhaustion.

Dr Paisley and her colleagues reassessed the older hunter's fractured hip and, content there seemed to be no additional damage, proceeded to administer the anti-pyretic to help reduce Dean's blazing fever. The heart monitor was reset and the oxygen mask replaced on Dean's features as he began to fight for air again. A penlight was shone in his eyes and there were calls for tests and scans.

Sam caught Dr Paisley's wrist before she could leave, his eyes demanding an explanation. "What the hell was that?"

"That, Mr Wesley, was what is known as a febrile seizure. Your brother's temperature went up from 103.4 to 104.1 degrees in less than two minutes and, as a result, he had a seizure," Dr Paisley informed the younger Winchester, wincing at the way his face paled.

It seemed as though every time Dean went through some kind of trauma, Sam seemed to experience it himself. They were like two sides of the same coin; one could not function without the other and, as a result, they'd suffer in their misery together. It was fascinating and slightly disturbing. Idly, the doctor wondered what sort of life had connected the brothers in such a way. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"We're going to take Dean for some tests, make sure the seizure didn't cause any damage in terms of both brain function and the injuries he already has and we've administered Phenazon as planned which ought to start bringing his temperature down straightaway."

Sam nodded, feeling the words sink in, and Dr Paisley patted his uninjured shoulder before suddenly realising that his sling was no longer encasing his dislocated joint.

"Where is your sling, Sam?" she asked, before catching sight of it on the floor as Dean was wheeled away for tests on his bed. "You ought to have it on," she continued, disapproval colouring her tone.

Sam shook his head defiantly. "I've had dislocated joints before, Doc. I'll sign myself out AMA if I have to but I'm not wearing it." The unspoken _I need two hands to take care of my brother _hung loudly between them and Dr Paisley conceded defeat.

"Very well. I was going to discharge you tomorrow anyway," the matronly woman replied. "I'll write you a prescription for some anti-inflammatory drugs to help with pain and you must continue the course of Amoxicillin for the chest infection." The doctor walked over to the rejected blue sling and picked it up, folding it over her elbow.

"If you come with me, I'll discharge you now. You can go home, make some calls if you need to, and grab a bite to eat and a change of clothes."

Sam flinched slightly. Despite having been sedated himself when he and Dean were both brought in and his shoulder being treated while he was unconscious, Sam was still wearing the bloodied, filthy jeans from the woods the previous night beneath his gown and he was probably a health hazard to his older brother right now by being in such a state.

Nevertheless, he was reluctant to leave his brother alone. "Will you call if..." the sentence was left unfinished.

"Of course," Dr Paisley responded, compassion shining in her aged, blue eyes. Sam bowed his head slightly in the universal gesture of acceptance and followed her out of the room, proceeding to collect his brother's possessions and take a taxi back to the motel.

XXXXXX

Having showered and changed his clothes, the younger Winchester lowered himself into the armchair in the corner of the motel room and pulled out his cell phone. He was again debating calling either Pastor Jim or Bobby, just for someone to talk to and worry about Dean with, but he jumped when the phone vibrated in his hands.

The caller ID displayed one word: _Dad._

Sam almost pulled the phone apart in his frantic struggle to answer. "Dad?!" he breathed, shock distorting his voice.

"Sam," John Winchester's deep baritone filtered through the earpiece. "How are you, son?"

"I-I'm fine," Sam stammered. "Dad, where the hell are you? Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, yeah, I did," the oldest Winchester replied, sadness making his tone grave. "Is your brother...Has there been any improvement?"

"No. I just came from the hospital. He...Dean had a seizure and he's been taken for some tests," Sam replied. John sighed down the phone and there was a moment of silence between the estranged father and son.

"Now, Sam, you're sure there was nothing there? No wendigo or black dog or anything?" came the hunter's voice suddenly, startling Sam.

"What? Are you kidding me? Of course I'm sure! Dad, the damn thing attacked us! Dean was...Dean was practically torn apart and you're worried about whether you messed up our intel? Well, newsflash, Dad, you did!" Sam shouted, his worry and fatigue from the past three days all mutating into one furious wave of anger that scorched his veins and coiled in his belly.

"You watch your tone with me, son. So I made a mistake. Your brother should have realised-"

"Don't you dare, Dad. Don't you dare blame Dean for this! This is _your _fault, Dad! Dean is lying in that hospital bed having freakin' _seizures _and haemorrhaging because you made a mistake! Dean's only error is that he followed your orders again!" Sam snarled vehemently. There was another pause, filled with tension, which defined the lifelong relationship John and Sam had shared.

"You tell your brother from me that his only focus is getting better, you understand me, Sammy?" John asked, disregarding his son's insolent tone.

"Don't call me that," the youngest Winchester muttered. "So I guess you're not coming to see us?" Sam continued, bitterly.

"You know it's too dangerous. I'd give anythi...Anyway, it's not important." _Not important. That's how you've always thought of us, isn't it? _Sam thought. "I'm sorry about Jessica, Sam."

The younger hunter felt his throat close up with grief at the sudden topic of conversation. "So you do know about what happened in Palo Alto."

"Yeah. I've known since it happened."

"And you didn't think to call?"

"I've told you – it's too dangerous. I'll...I'll call again when I can. Be careful, son." There was a click as John hung up and Sam was left shaking his head in disbelief. He felt angry tears spring to his eyes and he thumped his fist once against the armrest of the chair in frustration.

Sam allowed himself a moment of discomposure before telling himself to get a grip. He stood, gathering his jacket, before heading back to the hospital in the Impala. He drove carefully, mindful of both the poor weather conditions and Dean's devotion to his car. He pulled into the hospital parking lot and the car door creaked with sadness as she was left alone in the cold without her proper owner.

As Sam entered the hospital, the younger hunter decided to adhere to hospital policy and switched his cell phone off, uncaring whether his father would phone back later. The man's blatant disregard for his eldest son was driving Sam into a potentially-patricidal frenzy and he couldn't deal with it, not when Dean was so ill. Maybe it would teach the oldest Winchester a lesson. He'd finally understand how Dean and Sam had felt over the past months, what with their fruitless searching and lack of information.

Sam felt a little guilty about the self-satisfied smile that upturned the corners of his lips as he thought of how his father would feel, receiving nothing but Sam's voicemail but, mostly, he didn't care.

_Let the old man suffer._

XXXXXX

* * *

**A/N: I know I've done enough talking already, guys, but now I have a dilemma that only you all can solve. As we've just seen, Mr John Winchester makes something of a verbal appearance here, but I have debated long and hard whether to invite him into our cosy little fic as a physical presence. Since I've come to no substantial conclusion about that, I've decided it's up to you. I know that man divides opinions like the Berlin Wall divided...well, Berlin so I need your thoughts urgently since currently this is the problem that is stopping me from progressing past 13 chapters. If it helps, I can reveal that Bobby WILL make an appearance in the very near future. So, which would you all prefer to see? Would you like John to make an entrance at some point, perhaps get into verbal and maybe even physical scrapes with the Bobby and spew his angst-ridden fatherhood failing all over his boys, In My Time of Dying-style? Or would you like him to remain a shadowy presence across the telephone and kept firmly in the background, if featured at all beyond this chapter? I sound like I'm asking for you all to donate money to a charity or something but I honest-to-God cannot write any more until I know which direction you all want this fic to go. So if you would be so kind, please send your vote via PM or a review and maybe tomorrow I'll set up a poll on my profile page or something so you can choose there. Thanks, you sassy beauts!**

**Ad Astra.**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey, Gnomie! Don'tcha know me!? ...I swear to God, what show does that come from? It's been bugging me for an entire ice age! I'm gonna have it carved on my freaking tombstone at this rate. Or I'll have Sam and Dean send my cremated-ass ashes (I loved that alliteration there, just FYI) to the creators of whatever show it comes from just to troll. And my urn will say 'DO YOU KNOW ME NOW, GNOME-BOY?' (Geddit? 'Cause it's like homeboy...but for gnomes!) Anyway, s'up, gnomies (officially all your guys' nicknames now, don't even deny). Thanks so much for all the reviews for last chapter! You gnomie bastards snowed me under with so many of them and I loved it, I can't lie! Thanks also for all your input on the John and Bobby issue...admittedly, it didn't really help since it was a tie (c'mon, gnomies, get your shit together! Wait, I jest! Don't hurt me, that's gnomist. It's like racist...but for gnomes). What was I saying? I have come to a resolution for the Bobby and John issue in a way that I hope will please us all and we can all read and live together in perfect, gnome harmony. If not, then GTFO. Which means Gnomes Together FOrever, to be clear.**

**Oooh, thanks also to the guest reviewers of last chapter too, whom I'm unable to thank personally! You GNOME who you are! (Geddit? 'Cause it's like know...but gnome!) Also, word of warning, updates are going to slow down from this point onward. Apologies, gnomies. College has kicked off big-time and personal dramas are making this January not-awesome, plus I've reviewed the last couple of chapters of what I have written and, based on a few ideas people have sent my way, on top of how I'm now going to incorporate the Winchester patriarch and their surrogate father...it just means updates will be a little slower as I try and outrun my posting schedule by writing more chapters. I promise I will get it done! Just perhaps expect some more self-control from me, so less spontaneous posting in layman's terms. Chapters can maybe start to be expected every fortnight/three weeks, time permitting. **

**WARNINGS: "Mistakes, I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption..." Mr Sinatra's got an eye out for my mistakes, gnomies; (Geddit? 'Cause it's 'My Way'...but my mistakes!) do you? **

**SPOILERS: ****************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**DISCLAIMER: Bazinga! If I disclaim anything, it's Mr Sinatra's 'My Way' that my 'WARNINGS' section is singing along to up there. I do not own. Or gnome.**

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 9**

The younger Winchester stepped into Dean's room, surprised to see his older brother awake. Dean's bed had been elevated to the point where he was practically sitting up, pillows gathered behind his shoulders. The oxygen mask still clung grimly to his lips and he appeared to be holding himself as still as possible. His hair was no longer damp with fever and the chill in the room was evident thanks to the three fans that were strategically dotted around Dean's bed.

Someone must have manoeuvred his brother into a hospital gown at some point because Dean's bare chest was no longer exposed. The papery fabric hung limply from the older Winchester's frame but, even from the doorway, Sam couldn't see the bulky ACE bandages around his ribs poking up from beneath the material, indicating that they'd likely been removed with futile hopes of preventing the pneumonia from worsening.

No longer blushing crimson, it was obvious Dean's fever had abated some but the waxy, deathly hue still tainted the older hunter's cheeks. New IV lines trailed from Dean's arms and the heart monitor was still pinging away in the background. Painstakingly, the eldest Winchester brother raised his hand, removing the oxygen mask for a moment.

"You just gonna stand there all day?" Dean wondered aloud, eyes closing momentarily as his body reminded him just how difficult and painful it was to formulate a sentence in his current condition.

Sam shook his head and made his way across the room to his big brother's side. As he approached, he could see that Dean was shivering slightly; his arm muscles were tense and the veins in his wrists stood out painfully, as though keeping his body completely on edge and coiled was stopping the shivers from rocking his body too much and inciting more blistering agony.

"You certainly look better than the last time I saw you," the younger Winchester noted as he sat down, trying valiantly to push back the memory of Dean's seizure to the furthest recesses of his mind. The fans hummed gently in the background and Dean quivered in time with the beat of the blades.

He opened one eye and regarded Sam blearily. "Right back at'cha," he said, eye closing once more and breaking off with a jagged cough that made Sam's eyes water just to listen to.

The younger hunter grinned. "Won't argue with you there, man. That is the _last _time we go camping!"

"Whose...dumb idea was that...anyway? Must've...been one of...yours, Sammy," Dean wheezed, the whistling of his lungs more prominent as the consequences of taking the oxygen mask off made themselves known. A feeble smile graced Dean's blue lips and the thought that, even while fighting multiple injuries and a life-threatening illness, his brother was still trying to make Sam smile almost brought tears once more to the younger hunter's eyes.

He chuckled to cover up the sudden sentimentality that had overridden his brain and carefully guided the oxygen mask back up to his older brother's face as Dean gasped and coughed thinly. Though he protested, poking Sammy's hands away with shaking fingers, it didn't stop Dean from resting his fingertips against Sam's wrist, using his younger brother's throbbing pulse to guide him through the frequent bouts of unrelenting discomfort.

"Steady on, bro," the younger Winchester soothed as Dean lurched forward and began another coughing fit. Dizzy with the lack of oxygen, Dean's fingertips felt tingly but he didn't relinquish his tentative grip on his baby brother's arm as he choked and hacked and gagged, blood tainting his lips as watery mucus and bile flew into the emesis basin his brother held bravely under his chin.

"Way to go, Dean. Get it all out, man," Sam encouraged, even though he was panicking inside and trying his very best to suppress his _own _gag reflex. Dean couldn't hear him anyway, his words a mess of jumbled buzzing in Dean's ears as his ribcage cracked and rocked and bent with each and every agonising cough. Absently, he felt one of Sam's large palms laying flat against the small of his back and, as the deep, throaty, burning coughs trailed off into pitifully squeaky puffs of air, Dean felt Sam pat his heaving shoulder gently.

"I thought I was gonna have to get the nurse again, dude," Sam said, his tone relived and slightly breathless. In tune with his brother as always, Sam pressed the button for morphine and Dean's index finger tapped with approval against his palm. The younger Winchester removed the emesis basin and balanced it on the bedside table, picking up the tray of ice chips and wordlessly offering them to the older hunter. He accepted, eyes rolling in bliss as the cool trickles of liquid subdued the fire burning through his mouth, throat and chest.

"Dude, you and the ice chips need some time alone or something?" the younger Winchester laughed and Dean's response was to give Sam the finger.

"Shuddup, S'my," Dean replied, absently tracing his heart, fingers clenching on his breast bone as pain hit him in waves. Noticing this and the breathy, slurring quality Dean's voice had taken on, Sam once again raised the oxygen mask to his brother's face and felt his stomach tighten with worry when Dean wordlessly accepted the much-needed device.

He inhaled, every breath a sharp whistle, punctuated by another rasping cough. "Wh-What's...happening, S'my?" Dean moaned and he dissolved into more coughing.

"Alright, take it easy. Shh, Dean, you're okay," Sam tried to settle his older brother and was becoming concerned at the way Dean's condition seemed to hover over 'okay-for-a-guy-that's-been-attacked-by-a-bear-and-developing-sepsis' before suddenly deteriorating into the realms of _seriously ill _again.

"You got attacked by a bear, Dean. Man, we went through this-" but the words died in Sam's mouth as he recalled faintly that the last time they'd gone through this, Dean had been half-conscious with fever.

"I...know that...moron," Dean huffed and Sam had to smile at the flaky insult. "Why...am I so...sick?"

"Because some idiot decided to camp out in the freezing cold without the right gear!" Sam consternated. He sighed at Dean's wounded look. It wasn't the older hunter's fault; he couldn't have known they'd get attacked by a bear. The worst that should've become of that night was mild hypothermia that they could solve with a warm drink the next morning. _Instead we get all this_, the younger Winchester thought bitterly.

Noting that Dean still appeared to be waiting for the rest of Sam's explanation, the younger hunter lowered his voice as he continued.

"You were on a ventilator as well, Dean. Developed pneumonia thanks to the cold and the breathing tube. Plus, your ribs were bandaged up, so that didn't help," Sam frowned. "Not to mention, that huge bite wound on your side, man. That's all screwed to hell. You know they removed your kidney?"

"They removed my _what_?!" Dean demanded, sitting up straighter and actually crying out as broken bones, stitches and infection-riddled wounds all came together to form one perfect chorus of pure torture. It was one part ache, two parts burn and twelve parts sharp-stabbing and _Holy mother of God...Someone do something!_

"Guh..." Dean panted harshly, pulling in raking breaths that sawed in and out of his windpipe. Sweat sprang out on the older Winchester's forehead and he didn't even protest as Sam muttered nonsensical words of comfort and stroked Dean's hair back.

"Hey, Dean. Stay with me! Dean!" Sam commanded when it looked like Dean was about to lose consciousness. That guttural sob of pain was a noise Sam had never heard Dean produce before. He sounded like a dying animal and it horrified his younger brother. He desperately wanted to administer more morphine and relieve his pained brother of some of his suffering, but an ineffective press of the button revealed that Dean was currently riding his painkiller limit and would have to just tough it out.

"That...was about as...fun...as...a bear attack," Dean complained, teeth beginning to chatter as a chilling numbness settled into his bones. Dean's head felt strangely stuffy, like if he moved it just a little it would come off all together and roll across the shiny linoleum floor.

"Cute, Dean."

"My...k-kidney, s-seriously?"

"Sorry, man," Sam replied, getting back to the subject. "The doc says you'll be fine with just one kidney. I can get her in here, if you want. She can tell you a bit more about it."

"That's...p-probably a-a...g-good idea, S-Sammy," Dean gulped once, bringing a shaking hand up to his face as he hurriedly snapped off the oxygen mask. "You should tell her...that...I d-don't f-feel so good...I-I...I th-think I'm...gonna..." With no further warning, Dean retched once before vomiting all over himself and the arm belonging to Sammy that he had been gripping and passed out.

Without even processing what had just happened or even caring that his right arm was now encased in some of Dean's soupy bile, Sam was screaming for help.

XXXXXX

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**A/N: God, chill out, Sam. It's just vom. What is your problem? Anyway, that's all for now, gnomies! See you all next time. **

**Ad Astra. **


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: So I can only apologise for that ridiculous delay. I dunno where that three week deadline even went. Jan 28th was the last time I updated, the hell ****is that as a point in time?! It's inexcusable, that's what it is, and you should all send your complaints directly via a review...that'll teach me.**

**No, but for real, huge apologies to you all, that's the last time I make a promise! If it's any consolation, have these author excuses to make up for it: went through a break-up (was actually a good thing though...maybe I was high on new-found freedom and forgot to write? Anyone buying that? Okay, guess not, moving on...), was ill again...OH, WHATEVER. JUST BECAUSE MY IMMUNE SYSTEM'S AS INCONSISTENT AS THE WRITING OF SEASONS 6 AND 7! (although actually it was my heart palpitations, not technically illness, I know, but according to Dr Google, I need a pacemaker or transplant!...No sympathy still?)**

**Alright, well, have this chapter instead. Are we even now? Excellent. As always many thanks for all your gorgeous reviews, particularly to those whom I am unable to thank personally, you know who you are! I won't make another promise as to the next update but now I have a bit of direction again, updates should be (fingers crossed!) as slick as a Dean/Castiel slash fic. That's M-rated. Fuck yeah.**

**WARNINGS: Welcome to the Mistake Elimination Bootcamp. Your mission: destroy all errors and free half-decent writing from the mistake compounds.**

**SPOILERS:****************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**********************DISCLAIMER: I only own my rabid bear, Heli 'Blades of Steel' Copter and Dr Motherfucking Paisley. **

* * *

**********************Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 10 **

"Alright, alright. Calm down, Mr Wesley. Tell me what happened?" Dr Paisley asked, shining a light in Dean's eyes and loudly calling his name. He stirred, groaning and gasping.

"I dunno!" Sam cried. "One minute he was fine, the next he just threw up and fainted!"

"W-What's...going on?" Dean asked, breathily, coming to full awareness. "Why am I...c-covered in puke?"

"You vomited and then passed out, Mr Wesley," the doctor replied, still talking loudly, as though Dean were hard of hearing. He winced in response; that stuffy-head feeling was back. Sam noticed and grabbed the doctor's elbow.

"You mind lowering your voice a little?" he asked, not impolitely. Dr Paisley nodded and took out a thermometer to check Dean's temperature. It beeped once, having remained in his ear for just over a minute and Dr Paisley removed it and studied it with concern.

"95.5," she noted and Sam and Dean exchanged worried and baffled looks respectively. "Despite our best efforts, it looks like the sepsis has begun to take hold," Dr Paisley declared gravely. "As the sepsis progresses, Dean, your temperature begins to drop. I'll explain the full extent of your condition a little later." Sam bit his lip and gripped his brother's hand. Uncharacteristically, Dean squeezed back, knowing that blood poisoning was gonna be a tough son of a bitch to beat.

"I'll send a nurse in to get you cleaned up and then we'll get you started on a new regime of medication to see if we can stop it from going any further," Dr Paisley summoned a nurse who moved to Dean's side and left the room, although she was closely followed by Sam who confronted her as soon as they were out of Dean's earshot.

"You keep saying that!" Sam remonstrated. "You keep saying that 'we'll head this thing off' and 'stop it from going any further' but what does that even mean?!"

"Sam..." Dr Paisley began.

"No. This is _my_ brother, pretty much the only family I've got left in the whole damn world, and he's getting sicker by the hour and I want to know what the hell's going on!" Sam demanded, fury clouding his tone and making him see red.

"Mr Wesley, if you cannot control yourself, I will have to call security," Dr Paisley replied coolly. "You know, Sam, that septicaemia is very serious and we _are_ trying our best to prevent it from adding to Dean's problems. I won't ask you not to worry - that would be ridiculous and your brother is likely in for a tough couple of days. _However_, your brother has his youth and his prior good health on his side and I have every reason to believe that, if we can find the correct medication, he will be just fine."

"And if he's not?" Sam asked, apprehension curling his intestines.

"Then, we're looking at septic shock. Organ failure, respiratory failure, possibility of gangrene and limb amputations, surgery and eventually cardiac failure and death. And not necessarily in that order. It's not something I want to tangle with, Sam, not on my ward, but you have my word that, no matter what the outcome, we will take care of your brother," Dr Paisley explained, her tone adamant for which Sam was grateful.

"Can I ask just one more question?" the younger Winchester asked, faith in the good doctor temporarily restored.

"Of course."

"Septic shock...what's the death rate?"

"Mr Wesley, your brother hasn't even progressed into septic shock yet..."

"Just...Just tell me. What's the mortality rate?"

Dr Paisley sighed. "The mortality rate is approximately between 25 and 50%. But try not to think about that. Like I said, Dean's condition hasn't elapsed into septic shock yet. There is still time to find a strong enough drug to combat the blood poisoning and he has youth on his side."

Sam nodded, trying to force the statistics through his devastated mind. Numbly, he felt the doctor pat his shoulder.

"I'll be back momentarily to inform Dean of his treatment," she said.

The younger hunter nodded again, feeling as though he was underwater. "Dean said...he wants to know about his kidney," Sam added, his voice scratchy.

"Of course. I'll speak with him at length as soon as possible." With that, the doctor departed, leaving Sam to slump against the wall in the corridor, suddenly exhausted and frightened by the potential of Dean's illness.

XXXXXX

"Freakin'...b-blood poisoning, man," Dean grumbled later, Sam having returned to the room following his brother's impromptu sponge-bath. His sawing breaths clouded up the oxygen masks he spoke. "We have...the w-worst...luck."

"Tell me about it, dude," Sam muttered in response. "The doc told you everything then?"

Dean nodded, tight-lipped as pain gripped him. "Being down a k-kidney s-seems kinda irrelevant...given the situation, r-right?"

"Right," Sam grimaced as Dean sputtered and coughed weakly, clammy head sinking bonelessly back into the pillows supporting him. "Hey, just try and relax, Dean."

"Not a...kid, Sam," the older Winchester stammered as Sam attempted to shift the blankets to keep his brother warm. The fans had long since been removed, Dean's temperature having changed its mind and dropped to almost hypothermic levels. "Seriously, Sam," Dean continued, his warning tone unheeded. "Quit p-pawing me about...I ain't dead y-yet either!" the older Winchester barked, his voice unflinching and cold, despite its croaky quality.

Sam's hands froze on the blankets and he looked into his brother's impossibly green eyes. "I know that," he murmured, even as his stomach coiled unhappily. _You can't see yourself, Dean. You don't know how...beat you look, man._

Dean nodded once. "Then...l-leave off," he demanded, another cough erupting from his volcanic lungs, flaming with a fearsome congestion that burnt like magma. Sam watched his older brother struggle for air and fought the urge to offer the assistance he knew would be refused.

Eventually the fierce coughing stopped and Dean laid back, his hands clenching over his ribs as he attempted to breathe shallowly. Having watched Dean fight his invisible, bacterial foe for nearly five minutes, the desire to suppress his concern fled and Sam spoke out, gripping his brother's arm as he did so.

"Look, Dean, you're obviously in pain! Let me help you," the younger Winchester pleaded. "Do you want some more morphine?" Dean shook his head in response. Though not pain-free, he'd become used to the stabbing aches in his torso that sang out with agony when he coughed. Having ceased, the pain still lingered, but it had dulled to a level that was...tolerable. For a Winchester. Maybe. Regardless, he refused; he knew the pain would undoubtedly get worse later and decided to save his narcotics-high till _that _particular moment arrived.

Sam sighed angrily, huffing out a breath and feeling vaguely guilty he could do so when his older brother was fighting for oxygen with each inhalation.

"Maybe you'd rather have someone else here," he suggested. "I can call Bobby or Pastor Jim, if you want a break from me."

Dean whipped his indignant face around so quickly that he set himself off on yet another coughing fit and, once again, Sam found himself (whether Dean liked it or not) in the role of caregiver, helping Dean to cough out whatever crap was clogging up his lungs.

"Eurgh..." Dean gargled as the attack began to taper off. "S-Stupid bear. What do bears...g-got against ribs and lungs...an-anyway?"

"Still giving you grief, huh?" Sam winced in sympathy and inconspicuously moved his palm to Dean's wrist, barely keeping himself from flinching in surprise as Dean grabbed his hand. "You need another shot of morphine, dude?"

Dean nodded, his eyes almost rolling back in his skull with pain. _Ugh, failed, _his mind spat in self-derision. He'd hoped to have lasted a lot longer before needing the morphine but he could feel his broken ribs jarring awfully every time he coughed and the lingering ache and breathlessness that accompanied the sharp bouts of agony seemed to be increasing in both length and occurrence.

Quickly stabbing the morphine-button, Sam watched the medication trickle speedily through the IV and into his brother's body. Dean's bruising grip on Sam's hand lessened as the pain diminished over the course of the following minutes.

"Th-Thanks...S-Sssammy," Dean slurred, blinking up owlishly at his little brother. Sam was struck by the fragility of Dean's features compared to the heavy oxygen mask that covered them and the way the bleak ceiling lights highlighted the frightened look that tainted his watery irises. His brother looked..._afraid._ Of what, Sam didn't know. Sam leaving him? Never. Pain? Maybe, but unlikely.

_Dying? 'I ain't dead yet,' he had said. 'Yet'...Not yet. But maybe soon?_

And with that thought, Sam felt his mind shatter.

The younger sibling had been so worried earlier, when he'd watched his brother bleed out in the woods and when he'd first been shown to him after Dean had been sewn back up and repaired, even as his blood still swam with infection. He'd been so terrified Dean would die. But he'd never seen Dean frightened by death before. Not unless it was serious and an imminent possibility...

All of a sudden, Sam was consumed by a desire for air himself and he stood, abruptly finding the hospital room too crowded by the life-saving machines and the huge bed that seemed to swallow the frail frame of the eldest Winchester sibling. Dean's eyes attempted to follow his brother's movements, but inevitably they slipped close, eyelids pulled down by the lure of pain-free and drugs-induced unconsciousness.

Sam waited until that precise moment to leave, uncomfortable with Dean alone but knowing he wouldn't be missed while the older Winchester was asleep. His own breaths short and quick as he fled from the ward, slumped against the wall of an elevator down to the main reception and out into the wide air of day.

He stumbled as he fell against a bench and put his head between his knees, his vision tunnelling and ears ringing. As the blackness began to recede, he blindly felt for his cell phone and pulled it up, punching the one digit that led to the phone number he'd had memorised for years.

He put the phone to his ear as it rang, still swallowing down air greedily and trying to focus on the cracks of the pavement beneath his worn shoes instead of the looming darkness at the corners of his eyes.

The phone picked up and Sam gasped out the name.

"Bobby?"

XXXXXX

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**A/N: Who's Bobby, said no one in the SPN fandom ever. So begins Bobby Singer's entry to this chaos. As for John...wait and see. Maybe he appears. Maybe he doesn't. There's nothing you can do about it. It's an honourable appearance, a warrior's appearance...maybe. And if you don't know the SPN episode I'm referencing there...what are you doing here?!**

**Ad Astra.**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: No biggie. I mean, I've only got a two-thousand word English essay to write for my coursework, two recast activities with commentaries to complete, translate the entire second act of _La casa de Bernarda Alba _plus answer questions on it and complete Spanish workbook activities and then two essays on 1st century Rome. Yet, there I was, 4 am, writing this bitch out. Guys, you're ruining my life with how insatiable you all are! (But, shhh..._Never stop._)**

**Seriously, guys, I love you all! Eeek, hit more than ninety reviews with the last chapter! You're all completely amazing and if I could befriend you all, I so would! In fact, if anyone's on Tumblr, let me know so I can stalk you forever. Link's on my author page. Honestly, I cannot thank you all enough, including the wonderful anonymous reviewers that I can't thank personally! **

**As a reward, have some FILLER...I mean, a really interesting, diverse chapter-thing! This chapter is basically me establishing Bobby's voice. He was harder to write than I thought, so I'm counting on you guys to go as full-throttle as a Dean/Impala fic (heh, who reads those? I mean, really. Ha. Ha. *Cough*) with your critiquing, Loki dokie? Enjoy!**

**WARNINGS: So we've officially gone AU! Kinda. If it wasn't clear, Bobby's intro here disrupts the canon S1 timeline. If you have problems with this kind of time travel, go watch Doctor Who. Then come back. And appreciate how hard it is to mess with people's lives in this way! Also, like I said, typed this shit out at 4 in the morning...I'm expecting a minefield of mistakes so tread carefully, Lieutenants! **

**SPOILERS: ********No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**********DISCLAIMER: Do-do-do, c'mon and do the Disclaimer, do-do-do, it's Disclaiming day for sure!**

* * *

**********Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 11**

"Sam? Sam _Winchester_?" Bobby Singer would recognise that voice anywhere and he felt his heart jump upon hearing it. Of course, he'd blame it on palpitations, but Bobby couldn't deny it felt damn good to hear from one of John's boys. After John and Bobby had fallen out, the silence between the two gruff, deadbeat hunters had regrettably been imposed on the brothers by their father and so Bobby hadn't spoken to either of the Winchester brothers for years. But the old hunter could recall with fondness occasions when the boys were much younger and had referred to him as 'Uncle Bobby'. He couldn't stop a small grin from twitching the upper corners of his lips at the memories. It really was _damn _good to hear from one of the boys again.

Yet, being the old cynic that he was, Bobby knew such a phone call was hardly going to be good news, especially if it was Sam calling. That meant either his daddy or Dean or both were injured but Bobby had heard through the grapevine the events involving Sam's estrangement from his father and his sudden return to hunting with his brother.

It had to be Dean, then.

_Of course, _his mind supplied bitterly. God knew he'd loved that boy as his own son and liked to think in his own way he'd helped raised the kid when John would drop them off, two in the morning and shitfaced, and dive off again for days and weeks at a time. But Bobby knew Dean, knew how tenacious his drive to protect his family was, especially his precious baby brother. More often than not, the eldest Winchester boy took the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) bullet to keep his family safe. The only problem with that, of course, was that he usually ended up knocking on Death's door as a result. Oh, Bobby had seen the boy make some damn-near miraculous recoveries before, but he knew Dean's luck would fail him one day.

Praying that day was _not _today, Bobby felt his face harden into its usual resolute expression as he heard Sam's choked, panicky breaths. Knowing the Winchesters and their shared hatred for showing weakness, he waited for Sam to compose himself and gradually the younger Winchester's breaths slowed slightly and he coughed, clearing his throat and ensuring a reasonably solid voice, ready to launch into the account of his brother's health.

"Hey, man, it's so good to hear your voice!" Sam sniffed at last, with a forced levity he didn't feel, trying to keep his voice steady. "How've you been? It's been awhile."

"That it has," Bobby replied, sensing the younger Winchester's inner turmoil as to whether to come right out with whatever he had to say, or concede to social niceties first and get the polite small talk done and out the way. He decided to spare Sam the internal debate. "I've been well, boy, thanks for asking. I'd ask how you are but I can tell just by listening to ya that somethin' ain't right."

Sam chuckled sadly, touched by the concern he heard in Bobby's brusque tone. "Right on the money as always, Bobby."

"Course I am. Now, you wanna share what's going on? You wouldn't phone up a guy your daddy forbid you from talking to all those years ago without a good reason, no matter how many stitches that same guy put in your and your fool brother's heads. Dean okay? _You _okay?" Bobby asked, feeling the first twinges of worry coil in his belly. _Goddamn Winchesters..._

"I'm fine," Sam began. "Got a dislocated shoulder and my ankles are a little sore but none of that means anything. Dean's the...Dean's the one who got hurt the worst. As usual, right?" And Bobby must have heard the catch in Sam's shuddering voice because he sighed down the phone.

"Alright, boy, just start from the beginning."

So Sam did. He told the older man about everything, from their incessant arguing and the false wendigo lead, to the camping trip and the bear attack. He included everything, right up to Dean's septicaemia and the blatant disregard of their father for the wellbeing and safety of his sons. He finally finished recounting the tale, grateful that Bobby had listened mostly in silence, with the exception of a few choice curses aimed at John Winchester and whistles of disapproval and worry at Dean's injuries.

At last, there was a heavy silence, punctuated by Sam's heavy breaths that sounded too close to sobs for Bobby's liking. Truth be told, he was feeling a bit distraught himself. From the time he'd met the boy up until his estrangement with the Winchesters, Bobby knew that Dean was forever playing 'knock-door-run' with Death but this time it sounded like Death had opened the door, invited Dean in and even as Dean sat on Death's couch with a beer in hand, he was still eyeing the door, looking for a way back out. Bobby knew the eldest brother was a fighter but, honestly, it sounded bad. Bobby knew of few hunters that went as far as septic and made it back alive.

Struck by this notion, the old hunter blew out a distressed breath. "Well, your brother never was known for doing things the easy way," he surmised, keeping his voice low.

Sam grunted his agreement and Bobby glanced at his wristwatch, calculating how long it would take him to get to the Winchesters. His mind quickly made up, he took a deep breath in and straightened his shoulders, firmly decided on his next course of action. Right now, this boy needed more than a shoulder to cry on, halfway across country on a telephone. He needed a father-figure to stand with him at Dean's bedside and urge the man to fight. Sam needed solid support and someone to remind him to take care of himself while his brother couldn't. Bobby knew he was no angel, but if John wouldn't step up to the plate for his sons, the old hunter was more than happy to take his place.

Tone firm and certain, Bobby continued. "Listen to me, Sam. You get back in there with your brother, okay? He needs ya now more than ever, I'd wager. I'm about a day out but I should be able to get to ya by tomorrow morning."

"Bobby, you don't..."

"Don't have to my ass. You know damn well that what happened with me and John was never supposed to include you boys and I'm sure as hell not gonna sit here twiddling my thumbs while you and your brother need me. I'm packing up now."

Sam smiled, feeling a lump form in his throat. "Thank you, Bobby," he murmured quietly.

"Don't mention it, kid. You tell Dean from me that he'd better kick this thing's ass-" Bobby was sure as hell not gonna watch Dean Winchester, of all people, check out early. "-or else I'll be kicking his!"

"Sure thing, Bobby," Sam replied, smiling again.

Sensing the end of the conversation, Bobby was suddenly hit by a recollection from just the day before. Swiftly, the pieces fell into place and he piped up, knowing Sam had a right to know.

"Sam, before you go, you should know...your daddy called me yesterday," the old hunter murmured.

"What? Why?" Sam frowned, his mind momentarily taken off his brother's plight.

"I dunno, I never answered. Damn idgit's had the same number for years; I saw his name on the caller ID and ignored it. He left no message or nothin'...just thought you might wanna know, is all. God knows there ain't no love lost between me and that man and I know you're smart enough to know our differences included you boys and his crappy parenting..." Slightly uncomfortable, Bobby let his voice trail off momentarily, before restarting. "What I'm tryna say is, knowing what you've told me now, maybe your daddy is genuinely worried for your brother and was tryna get ahold of me to see if I knew somethin'. Which I do now."

"Maybe," the younger Winchester replied, his tone non-committal. "But he'll have to do more than phone a guy he hasn't spoken to in years for his before I'm convinced he actually gives a damn."

"I don't disagree, kid. But in case he does call again, is there anything you want me to tell him, Sam?" Bobby wondered, his years as a hunter forcing him to prepare for all situations, however undesirable the circumstances may be.

The younger Winchester frowned and sighed slightly. "Could you...could you tell him Dean's still fighting? I feel like I wanna make him suffer for how he's been and I know that sounds pretty bad but...Never mind. At the end of the day, I guess he at least deserves to know that."

Bobby smiled, recognising the compassion and forgiveness Sam was known for flicker to the surface, even towards a man as undeserving of it as John Winchester.

"No problem, kid. I'll let him know if he calls."

"Thanks, Bobby." And there were mutual clicks as both phones hung up. Renewed after his conversation with Bobby, Sam steeled himself. Switching his phone to silent, he turned and made his way back inside the hospital

XXXXXX

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**A/N: Stop...can't take...the..._filler..._**

**Next chapter, shit's going down. I dunno what yet, but I feel like shit should go the fuck down. Tarantino-style or something. Anyway, Bobby'll make his long overdue physical appearance next chapter and so we should see some ****Sam/Bobby, **Dean/Bobby father-son type of thing. In theory. Any objections?

**Ad Astra. **


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Check it out! Bang on two weeks...kind of. So I'm a day late. Whatever. I was dealing with the emotional trauma of 8X17 which literally left me scarred in the S&M kind of way that makes me want to watch Cas beating Dean up again and again. Oh, and there were college work deadlines or whatever. **

**Anyway, here's your update, you beauties! This chapter is a big'un! Because I love you all and if I divided it, it would've been another chapter of basically filler and the shit wouldn't have gone down till next chapter. Oh yes, that's right. Shit goes so down towards the end of this chapter, it's like a motherfucking sewer system. Also, I'm not digging this new layout FF has gifted us with; I apologise in advance if your reading this and it's all new and different. I feel like I'm trying to navigate a really boring school intranet or something. You know, like when you log onto a school's computer and instead of going to glorious Google, it feels the need to redirect you to everything fan-fucking-tastic about your place of education and there's pictures of people you dislike sucking up to the camera while holding a fucking pineapple upside down cake or something and you're like 'UGH, JUST SOD OFF.' Oh, and it also feels the need to tell you your attendance record?! Get lost with your 80% attendance, especially now that I've actually decided not to truant Spanish conversation class, geez. **

**Anyway, thanks as ever to you all for leaving your beautiful reviews! We hit 100 last chapter, guys! So proud of you all! The honour of leaving that special 100th review went to the anonymous, Shazza, so thanks to you (and to any and all Anons I can't thank personally) in particular. Dedicating this chapter to my lovely best friend (who knows who she is!) who helped me work out in what way, exactly, the shit should go down. Thanks so much to you all again!**

**WARNINGS: The author likes to talk a lot. Shh, just indulge her. Also, the medical jargon gets infinitely more ridiculous and bullshitted as time goes on in this fic. Ooh, and this was written at 2AM last night. I did a quick read through this morning, but mistakes are probably rife. Mistake spotters get pineapple upside down cake, so long as there's no sucking up.  
**

******SPOILERS:****************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**********************DISCLAIMER: I'm copyrighting Dr Paisley. She's a BAMF, and I don't wanna hear shit otherwise.**

* * *

**********************Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 12**

The following morning Sam looked up in surprise as three blunt knocks sounded on the door of his cramped and repellent motel room. He'd spent most of the night with Dean, eventually returning to motel to sleep, shower and redress when it became apparent that his older brother, though unconscious for the most part, was barely aware of Sam's presence when he did wake, which in no small way broke Sam's heart. That his big brother was ill enough to not even recognise him, the sibling he'd practically raised...Sam didn't even want to think about it and what it meant for Dean's physical health.

Abandoning his worried thoughts, Sam shot up from the bowl of cereal he'd been eating and hurriedly rushed to the door and pulled it open, the sight of Bobby Singer making him grin with both joy and relief.

"Bobby!" the younger hunter exclaimed, holding out his hand. Bobby bypassed it and stepped forward, pulling the taller man into a brief hug.

"It's good to see ya, Sam," he replied, smiling from beneath his ratty baseball cap. They released one another and Sam gestured the older man inside, plucking the older man's duffle bag from him and throwing it down on Dean's unused bed.

"Nice digs," Bobby noted, senses picking up on the damp air, flimsy windows, dirty curtains and stained carpet.

Sam shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not really staying here. I've kind of got this...arrangement with the nurses. I can stay with Dean; visiting hours don't apply, so long as I'm not a pain in the ass."

Bobby chuckled. "You? Pain in the ass? Nah, that's more your brother's style."

The younger Winchester felt an uneasy smile twist his lips as he thought of his brother. Bobby, sharp as ever, caught it and slumped into one of the hard wooden chairs opposite the one Sam had occupied moments before.

"Don't suppose there's been any change since you called?" Bobby wondered, his tone questioning.

Sam shook his head, floppy brown hair flicking about his face agitatedly. "It's only been, like, twelve hours, Bobby. Even for us, even for _Dean_...that'd be a miracle," Sam replied, staring off into space.

"Don't get cute with me, boy."

Snapping out of his reverie, Sam shook his head again, moving abruptly to sit across from Bobby. "Sorry," Sam replied, ashen. "I just don't get it, Bobby. What'd we do to deserve this?"

"The bear attack? Well, that's just nature for you, kid..." Bobby was confused, especially when Sam chuckled darkly.

"The bear attack, the blood poisoning, Mom, hell _Dad_, just this way of life, man. We go through enough crap just hunting for the thing that killed our Mom, without all this freakin' bad luck on top," and Sam knew that he was whining but, _dammit_, he was just so _tired_.

Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Ever think you boys just need to slow down once in awhile?"

Sam laughed outright at that. "We had plans to. Make sure there was nothing but bears haunting the woods round here and then we were going to take off for a couple of days. Ignore Dad's cryptic texts and _not _scour the papers for a job. We were just gonna handle this one thing, this one _last _thing but..."

"But then Dean decided to play Tag with Yogi Bear and lost. I get it, Sam," Bobby finished, inclining his head. The youngest Winchester grimaced; tilting his neck and feeling the bones scrape and click.

Bobby wrinkled his nose contemplatively. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep, kid?"

"Uh, last night?"

"Try again."

"I did get some sleep, I promise, Bobby!"

There was a pause.

"How much?" the older hunter asked eventually.

Sam grimaced. "I dunno, I guess I grabbed a couple of hours at the hospital. Dean's...Dean's not very aware right now, or he's just plain out of it so I don't think it mattered. Came back here about four last night and crashed and now you're here."

"Yeah, and it's six now, which means if you're not takin' me for a ride, you only got about four hours. Go to bed, Sam," Bobby instructed, tilting his head towards the unmade bed by the window. "If Dean's...like you say...out of it –" and Sam didn't miss Bobby's slight flinch at the thought of Dean so wrecked and broken he couldn't recognise his loved ones. – "then he ain't gonna miss us for a few more hours. And those nurses ain't gonna be so lenient towards you much longer if you're coming and going at all hours and bringing strangers with you."

The younger Winchester smiled. "Ah, you're not a stranger, Bobby. You're Robert Wesley, our uncle," Sam winked, knowing Bobby would catch the alias he and his brother were using in his affectionate statement.

"Don't you forget it, boy," the older hunter replied, rolling his eyes fondly. Sam laughed, picking up his abandoned spoon to quickly devour the rest of his cereal before retiring to bed.

He felt his shoulders ache as his limbs sank into the cool mattress. Now that he'd been forced to acknowledge his fatigue, it was catching up on him quickly. Since the attack, sleeping had _not _been a priority. He huffed a long breath, rolling over and shutting his eyes.

Standing, Bobby reached over the table and pulled the curtains shut, keeping the rising sun from disturbing the younger Winchester. Sam yawned a 'thank you' and Bobby rolled his eyes again as he returned to his seat, smiling affectionately across the room at the back of the youngest Winchester boy as he began to snore.

XXXXXX

There was nothing to smile about when Sam took Bobby to Dean's bedside.

Alongside the already impressive array of machinery monitoring Dean's wayward vitals, there had been the new addition of a monitor to supervise Dean's brain functions. Tentacle-like wires had crept up Dean's body in the interval, sticking themselves to his temples in a way that looked both intrusive and uncomfortable. What with being unconscious though, Sam supposed, Dean wasn't really in a position to complain.

While Bobby took in Dean's condition, aghast, Sam flagged Dr Paisley down. He hurried her through an introduction with 'Robert Wesley' before turning to her and demanding for what purpose they were monitoring Dean's brain functions.

Dr Paisley closed the door to Dean's room, gesturing for Bobby and Sam to sit down. "Mr Wesley, I'm sure Sam has told you about your nephew's condition."

"A bit," Bobby conceded, his tone expectant, hungry. It was an odd comparison to strike, given the situation and poor Dean's plight, but Dr Paisley couldn't help but compare the boys' uncle to a mother bear, ferocious, suspicious and deadly if there were any sign of a threat to her cubs. Sam had been one thing; Dr Paisley knew she would have to tread carefully with this man.

"Essentially, Dean's been developing sepsis over the past couple of days, despite our best efforts. Now, it could be a reaction to the drugs or it may just be the stress of the illness on Dean's body, but after you left last night, Sam –" the doctor turned to the younger Winchester. "-Dean began to experience very violent hallucinations. We had to administer a sedative to keep him from working himself up into another seizure or causing further damage to his body."

"What kind of hallucinations?" Sam pressed, frowning deeply as he leant forward. "And why wasn't I informed?!"

"Well, you _are_ being informed now," the doctor pointed out. "It wasn't anything too serious; most of it was pretty illegible, to be perfectly honest. There was a lot of nonsense about fires and your name came up a couple of times too, Sam. Maybe something about spirits or ghosts...something along those lines...Like I said, illegible and the ramblings of a very ill person, but I'd like to stress that Dean did no real harm to himself."

Having felt Bobby tense next to him throughout the doctor's explanation, Sam wasn't surprised when he spoke up next. "So the monitor..." the older hunter broke into the conversation, but let his voice trail off, the question implied.

"A precaution. We're monitoring cerebral activity in order to keep an eye out for seizures mostly, in the event of Dean becoming _agitated _once again," Dr Paisley concluded. There was a pause, in which she looked between the two men.

"Can I do anything for either of you, before I leave?" she asked, her eyes sympathetic.

Sam shook his head, fighting a wave of guilt that he'd left Dean behind so callously last night. Apparently his presence in the hospital room had more of an effect than he'd thought on his sick older sibling. By being there, he was acting as a natural sedative for Dean, letting him know that he was safe and allowing Dean's protective, older brother instincts to settle and switch off for a while. Dean had clearly sensed his absence when the younger Winchester had left earlier and, as a result, his subconscious must have tormented him over losing the one thing he was supposed to keep safe.

_No doubt that's where the 'fire' thing came from,_ Sam realised guiltily. He swallowed, resolving not to leave his brother again, no matter what Bobby said and no matter his own fear at Dean's predicament.

Bobby, meanwhile, did have a final question for the doctor. "Is he sedated right now?" he asked, his eyes flickering down to the still form of the man he looked on as a son. The visual assault of Dean flat on his back, so still and grey, an oxygen mask perching on his face that was thrust towards the ceiling, eyes closed like some great marble statue in a church, was nearly overpowering and the older hunter turned his face back towards Dr Paisley.

She shook her head in response to his question. "The sedative we gave him earlier was a mild one. It'll be wearing off already, most likely. In fact, if he's awake behind those peepers and just feeling a little bit too drained to open his eyes, then he's probably listening to us right now."

Sam and Bobby canted their heads towards the eldest Winchester sibling at that, expecting a half smile to twitch his cold, blue lips beneath the translucent oxygen mask as if to say '_Heh. Gotcha. You guys are too easy!_'

He didn't.

Turning their heads back towards Dr Paisley, she continued. "I can't give you an estimate on when he'll wake up. As I said, he's very weak right now, especially with the sedative on top of the sepsis. But by all means, feel free to talk with him for a while. If he does wake up, please try to not let him over-exert himself, though," the doctor instructed. At the nods of her patient's family, she smiled and stood, exiting the room to continue her round.

"Ss-she...gone?" a voice muttered, hushed and distorted by the oxygen mask, much to the surprise of both Bobby and Sam as one eyelid of the prone figure before them quirked open, revealing a pale green iris set in a bloodshot eye.

"She's gone, kid," Bobby replied, a smile curling his lips upwards. He moved forward, Sam at his heels to lean over the injured hunter. "How ya doing, boy?"

Dean made a noise that might have been a chuckle, the sound a breathless wheeze, lost to the mist of the condensation of the mask he wore. His shoulder twitched in what Sam discerned would have probably been a shrug had his brother been healthy and upright.

"'M good, man...You?...'S been...ss-some time." Bobby nodded his agreement as the prone hunter gesticulated with a free hand. Sam caught it, stepping into his brother's line of sight.

"S-Sam! Y-you're...here, man!" the older brother exclaimed, breaking off into a round of coughing. The younger Winchester held his breath, waiting for Dean to settle on his own, which thankfully he did.

"You...you give...the gr-greatest...presents...man," Dean smiled wanly, his eyes falling just short of Sam's own, giving him a vaguely spaced-out expression that Sam was certain wasn't too far from the truth.

"Presents, Dean?" Sam asked, frowning slightly, a crease denting itself between his eyebrows. Dean pulled his hand away and stuck a thumb out in Bobby's direction.

"Was a...good...decis-decisio-" Dean's voice cracked painfully as it caught on a choked exhale. Bobby, who had been smiling and doing yet more fond eye-rolling at Dean's drugged appreciation of his presence, started as Dean began to cough once more in earnest, the innards of his lungs spattering against the inside of the oxygen mask.

"Dammit, Sam! Do you want me to fetch the doc?" Bobby asked, his tone abrupt with panic as he tried to hold down Dean's convulsing form. Sam shook his head.

"Raise the bed, that sometimes helps. And can you pass me that bowl?"

Bobby did as asked and, as he stabbed the 'UP' button on the bed's remote control, he watched as Sam, with practiced ease, perched at Dean's side and pulled him up until the bed rose up enough to met his brother's straightened back. With the precision and dedication of a nurse himself, Sam plucked off the oxygen mask and held the bowl beneath Dean's chin as he spat up into it, pounding on Dean's back in a particular spot that must have been agony, judging by the strangled moans of pain Dean was making in between his jagged coughs and cracked breaths.

Sam ignored his brother's wheezing, nonsensical pleas though, in a way Bobby wasn't sure he would have been able to replicate had it been him in Sam's place, and continued to punch on his brother's back until Dean finally, _finally _stopped coughing.

He collapsed against the bed, face running and gown soaked with cold sweat. Sam brushed it away from his brother's forehead as Bobby's hand crept up with the oxygen mask, replacing it on the injured hunter's face, feeling the need to do _something _to ease the younger man's plight.

Dean looked up through tear-filled eyes at his younger brother and the naked despair Sam saw that had him bit his lip, the crease of his frown once more working a groove into his forehead.

"Don't...go...a-again...Sam...pleass-please," Dean murmured, his voice thick and wet with pain and congestion.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean. You try and rest, okay?" Sam encouraged and Bobby verbalised his agreement with Sam's statement.

"Ain't even got time to make small talk with an old man, but I think I can forgive you this once, kid, so long as we take a rain check till when yer better," Bobby joked, but the seriousness underlying his tone betrayed his concern and weakly Dean waved at the chairs by his bed. Obediently, Sam and Bobby sat, one on either side of the sick Winchester's bed. Sam refused to relinquish his grip on his brother's clammy hand and found himself staring, with concern, at the heart monitor which had begun to fluctuate slightly.

"Jussss...make s-sure...you don't go...Sam," Dean reiterated, twisting slightly with pain and discomfort on the bed. "You...neither...Bobby."

"We ain't going nowhere, Dean. But you settle down now, before you do yourself another injury," Bobby ordered, meeting Sam's eyes and exchanging an apprehensive glance.

"Good...good..." Dean murmured, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the propped up pillow behind him. Finding the bedside remote again, Bobby began to push the 'DOWN' button at Sam's agreeing nod, thinking it would be easier for the injured hunter to rest like that.

"Fire..." Dean whispered and Sam blanched.

"What, Dean?" he whispered, clenching his brother's hand tighter and leaning in.

"Can't help...fire...see fire...when...you're not...th-there...Sammy," the older Winchester replied, throat muscles scrunching with each exhaustive syllable.

"Alright, I won't go. Neither will, Bobby. Just get some sleep now," Sam commanded, trying to order his brother to rest.

Dean's response was a strangled whine that had Bobby and Sam sit upright in their chairs.

"Dean? You okay, boy?" Bobby asked, gripping Dean's other hand.

"...Fire..." Dean breathed, his abdomen tensing in pain, as the so-called 'fire' set his torso alight with pain once more. He felt himself slip from the reality of the confusing agony that took him and fall backwards into darkness, head flung back against the headboard, white, dry, cracked lips parted beneath the oxygen mask. He could feel time slowing around him and finally consciousness fled as he was dragged back into the darkness from whence he came.

There was a moment of peace, Sam and Bobby equally scared and perplexed by Dean's sudden lapse into oblivion. Then, Sam's keen eyes caught the ever-more wildly fluctuating red lines of the heart monitor, pulsing up and down in an irregular and erratic rhythm that could not spell anything good.

Sam reached for the call button, concerned and ready to instil Dr Paisley's help once more, but the heart monitor did it for him, blaring out with one single tone that had Sam and Bobby flinch fiercely and sent medical personnel flocking to the room.

They were shoved back and away from the perimeter of Dean's room as crash carts and nurses flooded in but even as an orderly tried to escort them down the corridor and away from the horror of the scene, Sam could still hear that one ear-splitting tone, resonating through his ears and across his mind, transporting him to just days earlier when Dean had first been rushed in, so ill and critical. It roared through his head, making him deaf to sounds beyond it and all it's horrible, terrifying proclamations as it declared that Dean's heart had faltered and given up. Sam sank to his knees, almost tripping the orderly and Bobby as the one destructive and petrifying word spiralled through his head.

_Flatline._

XXXXXX

* * *

**A/N: What do you mean I'm a troll? It's a perfectly reasonable cliffhanger. I know everyone's feeling sensitive after Wednesday...but still. **

**Also, guess who's started a new SPN fic, guys? It's unfinished and in the very early stages right now (I did debate putting up its first chapter, but let's face it, I can barely manage this one unfinished story and all its updates as it is! Instead, a brief summary of the new fic is on my profile, if you're really that curious.) but with the Easter holidays looming, I aim to work on them both simultaneously, so hopefully lots of unrealistic levels of whump and man pain coming your way this Spring! **

**Ad Astra.**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Alrighty. No funny author's note this time, guys. Time to be serious for a minute.**

**First of all, huge apologies for taking so long with this update. I know I said my Easter/Spring break would be a really creative time for me in terms of this story and believe I even promised a couple of you in review replies that my next update would be within a week of the previous one. Sadly, as has been made disappointingly clear to you all, that did not happen. I underestimated just how busy college could make my work schedule in that last week of term and then my weekend was chock-full of friend and family-based commitments. Then, my laptop sprung a chilling blue screen of death on me over the same Easter weekend and, though thankfully nothing was lost, I ended up refusing to write anything until I purchased a memory stick to back everything up onto, thanks to my paranoia, and this didn't arrive till later in the week. By the time it got here and I'd backed all my digital life up, my holiday to Cornwall was upon me and so there was a week of almost total internet blackout there as the caravan I stayed in didn't have Wi-Fi. **

**All these excuses are terribly mundane and boring but they are completely true and severely impeded on my motive to write and my time to write also. Cut to after Easter and I'm back at college, meeting coursework deadlines, sitting mock exams, with my actual exams upon me in two weeks, all of which again makes it extremely difficult to find the time to write. Also, my grandmother died this week. Though a very sad occasion, I won't pretend to be unhappy about it and use it as a defence for not writing because, actually, I think it was probably a form of release and even a blessing for her as she suffered from dementia in her later years and got into a state she would've despaired to be in. But a death in the family, coupled with numerous other family dramas this year, have left me a bit disillusioned somewhat and, coupled with my lack of time right now, left my motivation for writing at rock bottom. **

**So, where do we go from here? **

*****The first thing I have to tell you all is that, with total sadness and regret, this story is going on a _TEMPORARY_ - I'd like to stress - _TEMPORARY_ hiatus. I have a few ideas for where it will go from this chapter on so it's not been abandoned completely but please do not expect an update until _JULY/__AUGUST 2013_ at the earliest. I'm so sorry it's such a long hiatus, but my exams and impending university in the fall have to come first right now, guys. I know you will all understand that because you're the loveliest people in the world. Thanks ever so much for all the reviews, faves and follows, as of now. I can't expect people to still keep up with this story after such a long hiatus, so if I don't see you on the flip side, fuck you. I'm just jesting. You've been a beaut for even getting this far, thank you so much. See you in the summer to anyone that does decide to hang around till August.**

**Finally, quick dedication to Psycho33 who PM'd me today with a wonderfully kind message asking after my wellbeing since it had been so long since I last updated. Everyone give your thanks to this lovely person because (I'm ashamed to confess it) I would probably have just gone without posting at all until August otherwise. Instead, that message made me think 'actually, that's harsh. I frigging hate it when people just don't update for ages, so I'll leave a final chapter, with a note explaining why.' So there you go. This one is for you, Psycho33!**

**WARNINGS: I literally typed this up half an hour ago and uploaded it to here. I haven't even read it through once. I just wanted it posted. So, I know I say it often about mistakes being rife - usually, I don't get many comments about errors, you guys are way too polite, bless your souls - but seriously, this chapter is just loaded with them, I can feel it. Make sure you warn me, Castiel to Pamela 'Lazarus Rising'-style, so I can burn them out like the poor psychic's eyes. Also, the medical jargon is basically pure bullshit now. Also also, pretty filler-ish. But I like the ending.**

**SPOILERS: ****************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John. As of this chapter, also feel the need to clarify...set before 'Faith'.**

******************DISCLAIMER: GET OFF OF MY BACK.**

* * *

******************Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 13**

"A heart attack?!" Sam breathed later, his voice dipping low with tension and frailty. His own heart sank as he took in the implications and he felt his knees tremble gracelessly as he slumped to one side, a weary arm bracing him against the wall of the outside of his brother's empty hospital room. Bewilderedly, he felt Bobby clench the top of his other arm as the older hunter stepped forward, offering himself as a pillar of strength in Sam's moment of weakness.

"Is he gonna be alright?" the older hunter asked, his voice gruffer than usual. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Sam realised that Bobby, like him, was barely keeping it together.

_God, Bobby. I'm so sorry for dragging you into this, man_, Sam thought despondently, the mental apology drifting around the outside of his mind that was already so preoccupied with guilt, fear and anguish at his older brother's health.

They hadn't had news of Dean's condition after he'd collapsed for hours. Virtually dragged from the corridor adjacent to Dean's room, Sam and Bobby had been deposited in a family waiting area on a whole other floor. If the stress of worrying after Dean's wellbeing hadn't finished the pair of them off, that room might have done it. The bright colours were so loud and vicious on the walls that it felt like they were screaming at the tormented younger brother, pulsing through the bone of his skull and accumulating in an acidic stab of pain above his right temple. On the tiny television screen, pinned to the corner of the room, a tinned audience cackled with demonic laughter and the noise was jarring, grating as it disturbed the air and fed the building migraine in Sam's head.

It took so long for anyone to even tell them what was going on, too. They'd asked everyone, passing doctors, nurses, even security guards if they could find out how Dean was. The answers varied from complete confusion to absolute denial. One nurse swore he'd seen Dean's name on the theatre roster and that he was probably in surgery. _That _had about caused Sam a coronary of his own. Luckily, shortly after, Dr Paisley had found the makeshift father and son, covertly trying to drink strong coffee (while wishing it was something _much_ stronger), among the pews of the hospital chapel, they both having agreed that they needed out from that horrendous waiting room.

Dr Paisley frowned in response to Bobby's question. "Honestly, his chances are diminishing. The sepsis progression has accelerated-" the doctor stopped as Bobby cut her off.

"And by 'accelerated', you mean...? What?" the older hunter demanded, his eyes narrowed.

"I mean that Dean's organs have begun shutting down. But please, Sam," the doctor begged, turning her gaze onto the younger Winchester whose face had drained of colour at her declaration. "I must inform you that his heart is fine. Well, as fine as it could be for a guy in Dean's position," she amended. "The heart attack was triggered as a result of Dean's elevated heart rate, or tachycardia, which in itself is a symptom of his blood poisoning. We actually managed to resolve this through cardioversion treatment, so believe it or not, the heart is actually the least of his troubles right now."

"So the organs shutting down...?" Sam left the question open-ended and it hung in the air like a whispered prayer.

"We had to do tests, obviously. Make sure his heart was stable and so on. In doing so, we were dismayed to find that his remaining kidney has begun to fail. In the case of severe sepsis, this isn't particularly uncommon; typically, kidneys are the first organs to fail. We've begun dialysis, mainly as a precaution..."

"Pretty invasive precaution," Bobby noted, still tense as a trapped animal.

"Since Dean's only relying on one kidney now, we can't take the risk. Especially as it's already overworked as it is, trying to keep his blood clean from the infection that's raging through him," Dr Paisley explained firmly. Bobby nodded once, his cap tipping forward on his head slightly in a gesture of acknowledgement that the doctor took to mean she could continue.

"We are now also monitoring Dean's liver alongside the other major organs we already had supervised, like your brother's lungs, heart and brain. I'm confident that if we can control the progression of the disease, the kidney damage as it stands so far, if not reversible, should not impede on Dean's life and he won't require a transplant," Dr Paisley finished, dropping her eyes for a moment at the shell-shocked expressions on the faces of the men before her.

"'_If'_ you can control the disease, though," Bobby noted, the statement poised like a gun at the unassuming doctor. She inclined her head.

"Indeed. As of right now, we've placed Dean in a medical coma and put him on full life support to allowing his body to concentrate on healing for the time being. We're also attempting a new combination of antibiotics which, though it's only been a couple of hours, seems to have improved his heart rate somewhat and brought his temperature back up very minutely, which would suggest we've finally found one Dean responds to," Dr Paisley explained. A thin smile flexed the corners of Bobby's mouth at the conclusion of the doctor's description, while Sam continued to stare bleakly at the floor.

"Are you optimistic 'bout the kid's chances, Doc?" the older hunter questioned, wanting to know before the doctor left.

"It's hard to say," she replied, her voice careful and eyes ambiguous. "Cautiously, I would offer you a 'yes', now that we seem to have found an antibiotic Dean clicks with and managed to head off any real organ failure. But sepsis is very unpredictable, Dean is still very and weak and there is still time for things to go wrong. Please don't lose sight of that, Mr Wesley. Dean is very much still in mortal peril, if you'll forgive my being dramatic, and the game could change at any moment."

Bobby inclined his head again and the doctor dismissed herself, leaving the men with the assurance that they could go and see the eldest Winchester boy if they so wished.

The older hunter turned to Sam, who'd remained silent and still (with the exception of the barely-there trembles of his body that conveyed his unconditional fear for his brother's wellbeing), throughout the entirety of the doctor's speech.

"There ya go, kid. Yer brother's a fighter, proved the sons of bitches here wrong. Sounds like he's on the mend, don't it?" Bobby frowned, gently turning the much taller man to face him.

"I don't know, Bobby," the younger Winchester replied, also frowning, his eyes misty and bleary. The stabbing pain of his earlier migraine intensified and he clenched his jaw bitterly, raising his hand to press against his tightening right temple.

"Something...just...doesn't feel right..." he slurred, voice punctuated with pain.

The agony increased to mind-blowing levels and Sam felt himself and Bobby cry out in unison, one in suffering and the other in a plea for help, as he fell to one knee in the older man's arms as a new reality encompassed him. Colours and the blurred figures of hospital personnel surrounded him, but he couldn't see them as new sounds, smells and sights assaulted his senses and he slipped into the vision that claimed him.

XXXXXX

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**A/N: I don't think it's that cruel an ending to my pre-hiatus chapter. Sam's having a vision. Maybe it's just of cake. Or a balloon. I mean, it's not...but just pretend it is till August! **

**Thanks so much again for the ride, guys! If anyone wants to hit me up during the hiatus, I'll still be on Tumblr if anyone's over there. Link's on my profile page at the top. Until August!**

**Ad Astra. **


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: _Hello, handsome!_ It's August 2nd and I've returned from hiatus, as promised for once! I hope you've all had super summers thus far, I know I have. But I won't make a big fanfare out of my author's note this time as some of you might have actually waited for an update to this fic for a long time (who are you and may I please have your children?) and if so are rightly deserving of me shutting up and letting you get on with the next 1,789 word instalment to 'Into the Wild'. Just as a quick aside, thanks so much for all the reviews and faves and follows I've had so far, especially those that were supportive of my decision to take a hiatus. I hope this was worth the wait! Enjoy!**

**WARNINGS: Yeah, I didn't edit this. There are mistakes somewhere, I know it. If you pick one up, pass it on to me like the clap. Or maybe don't because ew.**

**SPOILERS: ************************No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.**

**DISCLAIMER: T'cha, so one of the things I did on hiatus was get a job. But I'm still too poor to buy the rights to the show. So let my fantastical fic be.**

* * *

**Into the Wild**

**CHAPTER 14**

_There was a damp and ruffled page from the local newspaper flickering through the air. It settled briefly on the sodden, leaf-cloaked earth of the forest, moisture eating through the black words and scrubbing them into mulch._

_Sam could just make out the date and the headline through the blurred distortion of the vision realm. 18__th__ December 2005. Two days from now._

_The headline was bleak, 'TOURIST DIES, BECOMES FOURTH VICTIM OF KILLER BEAR: LOCAL MAYOR PROMISES ANIMAL WILL BE 'DEALT WITH HUMANELY''._

_Sam's eyes settled on the word 'tourist', his eyes narrowing as bitter tears stung at them, mirroring the wet rain droplets crawling across the ink and sinking into the earth. _

_A noise in the undergrowth pulled Sam's gaze upwards in fragmented leaps, like his eyes were buffering as they tried to focus on the blurred vision and its ulterior meaning._

_A man was stood before him, clutching a rifle. He looked desperately at the younger Winchester, his mouth moving slowly as his distorted words forced themselves into Sam's mind._

"_Please," he begged. "I'm outta ammo. I ain't gonna try and shoot you. Just hear me out..."_

"_You killed my brother," Sam replied, blithely, simply. "You deserve this."_

_Feeling the weight of his handgun steady in his palm, he lifted it up to the older man and pointed it between his eyes._

"_Wait...just WAIT!" the man cried, stumbling backwards and falling to the floor as he attempted to pull away._

_Indifferently, Sam followed the man's descent with cruel eyes and clenched his fingers against the trigger, squeezing once._

_With a sudden explosion of sound that sent the birds soaring into the overcast sky above, a spray of blood hit the surrounding trees as the man's head burst open. _

_Sam stepped forward, standing triumphantly over the body of Brian Myers. Raising the gun once more, he fired into the dead man's face again for good measure, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun ringing through his head and pulling him from the vision..._

XXXXXX

"Sam? SAM!? Dammit, son, talk to me!" Bobby implored, shaking the younger Winchester lightly.

"I...Bobby?" Sam gasped, wincing at the sheen of the bright white walls and floor of the hospital.

"I'm here, kid. You okay?" the older man asked, standing carefully and bringing Sam up with him. "What in the hell was that about?"

"Just...give me a minute," the younger hunter panted, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright?" Bobby wondered aloud after a long pause, eyeing the younger brother suspiciously.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Sam nodded, standing at full height imposingly, swiping a hand across his forehead and gathering up the sweat that had collected there. He still felt somewhat unsteady, but the headache had lessened and his veins pulsed with adrenaline. He didn't fully understand the vision, not entirely, but he knew it involved his brother dying and the shop owner Brian Myers and that it couldn't be taken lightly.

"Hey, Bobby, would you mind staying here with Dean? I've got some things I need to do," the younger Winchester demanded abruptly, the statement pulling a frown form Bobby's face.

"There's 'things' you gotta do? Sam, you've just had some kind of fit or somethin' and you wanna go do laundry?" Bobby quizzed, baffled at Sam's sudden energy and request. Before the younger hunter could interject, the older man continued, trying to instil some sense into the whimsical younger brother. "If ya ask me, you need to be in a bed too, that weren't no ordinary migraine, that's for damn sure. And besides that, what's important right now is staying with your brother. You heard the doctor, kid," Bobby's voice dropped as he continued, his face a mask of hurt and resignation. "There's still every chance Dean might not make it."

Impatiently, Sam nodded. "I know, Bobby. I know, man, believe me. But I've just got this feeling...I dunno, call it brotherly instinct, whatever you want, but I think there's more to this case than we first realised," the younger hunter implored, his tone almost pleading as he thought back to that newspaper headline of his vision. Dean was going to die and it had something to do with Brian Myers and Sam was going to do everything in his power to stop that vision from coming true.

Now, Bobby quirked a greying eyebrow, his eyes taking on a suspicious slant. "And just what in the hell is that s'posed to mean?" the older hunter interrogated as Sam rolled his shoulders and sighed edgily.

"I don't know. Yet. But, Bobby, I need you to trust me on this. I think...Dean's in a bad way. And something's telling me he's gonna get worse. And somewhere, out there in that forest, is someone responsible for it. And it's not just a bear," Sam hissed, his tone forceful and desperate. He wished he could tell Bobby about the visions but he already knew how Dean felt about them and if Dean was old school when it came to things like that, then Bobby was the aged, stodgy professor who'd been there since the old school opened and was angling for a promotion to principal.

Bobby searched Sam's imploring gaze for a moment, studying him as thoroughly and delicately as a Latin exorcism. Clearly still uneasy, but unable to deny the younger Winchester his request when the boy was so passionate about what he was saying, the older man finally nodded.

"Okay. Okay, Sam," Bobby replied, his appraising stare becoming resolute and solid. "But I've got one condition for you, boy."

"What's that?" the younger hunter enquired, eager to begin meticulously researching Brian Myers and barely listening to the gruff mentor before him.

"You don't do none of the heavy lifting on this one. In fact, you're gonna sit your ass in a chair by Dean's bed and you don't leave his room, much less this hospital. We clear?" Bobby instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

"Bobby, c'mon..."

"'Bobby' nothin', Sam. You're beat and your brother needs you. I do this crap for a living, kid. A piss poor living, granted, but if you need someone to work this case for you, then let me do it. If you're right about Dean and he _does _get worse, God forbid, then he'll need someone by him. And that someone oughta be you, Sam," Bobby murmured softly.

The words hit Sam hard and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "Okay, alright," he said at last, breathing out a tense breath. "Thank you, Bobby," the younger Winchester gasped, his relief at having the older hunter at his back palpable.

Bobby smiled for the first time in hours, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Kid, it's what I'm here for. Now tell me what I gotta do."

XXXXXX

Some time passed before Dean was returned to the room. Sam had remained at the hospital as Bobby had ordered, having left the older man with instructions to call as soon as he had any information. It had been a tense, impatient wait, broken up by Dean's re-emergence.

The older Winchester was conscious as he entered the room, just barely, and his eyes sank into his skull with gratitude as he caught Sam's sturdy presence, straight-backed in one of the two chairs poised just off centre of the room. The younger man stood as the bed was reversed into place and Dean's position was elevated so that he was leaning back slightly, his thin bones pressed tightly against the warmth of the mattress. Sam waited a few moments more while Dean's health records were noted and checked and the intensive care equipment was properly installed before sitting back down by the older man's side as the nursing staff filed out, leaving Dean buried under a heated blanket that barely suppressed the cold tremors wracking the older hunter's body..

"Man...am I...glad to see...you," Dean wheezed and Sam had to focus every ounce of concentration on Dean's muffled and barely legible words, warped by the heavy oxygen mask still obscuring most of his face.

Sam grinned, the smile splitting his face wide and feeling almost foreign on his lips after days of coiled tension marring his features. "Right back at you, Dean," he replied. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to tire his brother out with the effort of speaking.

Dean's shoulders twitched heavily, which Sam took to be a shrug. When it looked like he wasn't going to add anymore, Sam went to speak but Dean beat him to it.

"Just feel so...damn...weak..." the older Winchester coughed out. "Hey...r-remember that time...with..the reaper?" Dean questioned, his eyes heavy and thick with exhaustion and his face stained grey with agony.

"Oh, I remember. When your big brother gets himself zapped with a hundred-thousand volts and mortally damages his heart...yeah, I'd say it's the sort of thing a guy remembers," the younger hunter teased gently, elated at the tired smile that tugged at Dean's pale lips. After giving Dean a moment to collect himself, Sam spoke again.

"Do you feel like that now, Dean?"

There was a tight pause, punctuated by the irregular lines and beats of the various monitors surrounding Dean's head, like a sad, warning halo of doom. Sam kept his peripheral vision focused on those intermittent lines, convinced that they'd cease altogether if he looked away.

"Worse," Dean muttered, his voice cracking as lung-tearing coughs began to escape him once more. Sam bit his lip, leaning forward and easing Dean up, trying to assist in whatever way he could as he rubbed a warm hand across his brother's back, gratified but fearful as Dean leaned into the soothing touch.

The older man's breathing was erratic as he looked up at Sam, his eyes watery and bloodshot as more barks of pain broke up from his chest and out of his mouth.

"Sammy," he gasped, trying to collect himself as the grating coughs came faster and faster. "Sam, I...I f-feel...worse, worse than...the reaper."

Sam swivelled in his chair, clutching his choking brother more tightly to him, his mind flashing back to that terrible premonition and the newspaper announcement of Dean's death. He pounded the older Winchester's back as steadfastly as a soldier but with the precision of a surgeon and the dedication of a younger brother, his tone delicate and comforting as his brother spat up into the emesis basin Sam managed to manoeuvre into his lap just in time.

"It's okay, Dean, I've got you. Just like the reaper, man. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he declared, his voice a reverent whisper, a prayer, thrown to the stale recycled air of the hospital room.

_Hurry up, Bobby. Please, man. Just...hurry._

XXXXXX

* * *

**A/N: __****Darling? Darling! Surprised? Surprised! Love me? Love you!**** In other news, I really love the film 'Young Frankenstein' with Gene Wilder. It's hysterical. But that's not what you came here to talk about. So Brian Myers, eh? What a douchenozzle. Who would've thought it? He seemed so nice. And he was, but this fic has taken a slightly new direction, but you know, _carpe diem _or whatever. Also, I am pleased to announce that I have also started work on another SPN fic which brings my 'work-in-progress' total up to three now, including this fic. Details on my profile for anyone who cares. It's an SPN fic, of course, set in Season Eight, directly following 8x09 'Citizen Fang'. As ever, it's hurt!Dean and I hope you'll find it's worth a look once I finally get it up like a fangirl boner over Season Nine spoilers. Who else is excited for October? I am, for sure.**

**Ad Astra. **


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